


A Strength and Passion That Is Not Theirs

by sweetnuisance



Series: Sculpted of Clay Series [2]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Evandre, F/F, Female Relationships, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Fic, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Romance, baby amazon all grown up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetnuisance/pseuds/sweetnuisance
Summary: Daughter of Queen Hippolyta, sister of Princess Diana and the youngest of the Amazons.No longer a child, Evandre must find her own place in Themyscria.





	1. Through Dark Waters

The waters have calmed, the threat of storms having passed with the dark brooding clouds and now the banished pale moonlight has returned to spill over the little boat. With no berths, or even a canopy aside from what little shelter is offered by the wheelhouse, the bodies huddle under blankets on the open deck would be thankful for evading the rain if they weren’t all lost to their own dreams. 

In the cramped wheelhouse Diana and Giesela have shared the duty of steering the vessel, but with Giesela new to the task Diana has stood a vigil beside her whenever she took her turn. Making steady progress and so close to home now there is no need to push the small engine, its roar reduced to a dull chug beneath the deck boards where they stand; louder is the churning of the water beating against the bow and up the sides of the wooden craft as they plough through the waves. The rest of the night is peaceful, disturbed only by the faint snuffling of sleep or the scrape of a boot on the wooden deck when someone rolls over. The three people still awake are content to guide their course in silence. 

Diana looks to Evandre concerned how quiet she has become and Diana is certain it is not simply out of consideration of the sleeping. As they’d all sat on the deck earlier in the evening to share the last of their rations Evandre had already seemed distant. Deciding to leave the helm to Giesela, Diana gives a nod and smile to reassure her that the boat will be in safe hands with her as captain for a little while, and goes to her sister. 

Evandre leans on the port side staring out at the black waters. Diana thinks how soon they will be the bright blue of home, the same colour of Evandre’s eyes but for now the dark depths are matched in her sister’s gaze. She had told Evandre hours ago to go find a space to sleep with the others but Evandre refused, not even once throwing a glance toward a warm blanket or welcoming body to ease whatever was weighing on her. Meanwhile Diana had caught Giesela looking over a number of times, like a hungry dog eyeing food. Perhaps she should have taken the time to teach her sister to sail but honestly Diana had expected Evandre to be too unfocused for the task with the excitement of returning home. 

As she comes to stand beside Evandre the younger woman asks, “Do you remember the stories you and Mother told me when I was little?” She keeps her voice low so not to disturb the others. 

“Of course.”

“Fair and good. Strong and passionate.” Diana remembers those words though it seems almost a lifetime has passed since she sat with Evandre as a child listening to Hippolyta’s stories of the Amazons before Themyscira and their days of battle and liberation, starting with Zeus creating mankind. And even longer since their mother had told her the same stories as a child.

Evandre’s face is almost unreadable but she cannot hide how exhausted and beaten she feels in a way she should not with their homecoming imminent; Diana reads it in the tension of her arms braced on the rail, the slight shake of her hands. Though Evandre’s words tell Diana it is not thoughts of home that weary her sister but thoughts of where they have been. Fair and good, strong and passionate. After the things they have witnessed it is hard to find these qualities in the world they are now leaving, or in any child of man. They had left Themyscira to help Evandre discover where she came from and who she was but Diana was afraid that their mother had been right when she warned that Evandre might not like what she found. 

“Evandre, look at me.” Her sister stubbornly refuses, even at twenty two years she can be frustratingly childish at times, but Diana continues. “You are those things.”

“But not from them.” Finally Evandre looks to Diana, her eyes cast grey from the moonlight and unshed tears. “And not from any God either.” This is the kind of stubborn that makes Diana proud rather than irritated, her baby sister determined and steely. Evandre would not allow either to claim any part of her; not man who would spill their brothers’ blood in war after war or long dead gods who only care to meddle in the affairs of mortals for their own amusement. 

Diana pulls Evandre into her arms. “No,” Diana agrees. She wants to reassure Evandre she doesn’t have to be a part of those ancient tales or the history mankind is writing for itself. “I remember the stories Evandre. I remember the one you begged me to tell you again and again because it was your favourite. You are an Amazon risen from the ocean, just as Mother said.”

Evandre nods against Diana’s chest, still far shorter than her sister and fitting comfortably under Diana’s chin, but she doesn’t return the embrace. Holding her arms straight at her side Evandre’s left hand clutches at the gauntlet on her right forearm, something tangible to tell her who she is. Diana knows something else that would help ease her mind even more if she would just allow it. 

“We’ll be home before sunrise, go get some sleep.” Before stepping away from her sister and returning to the wheelhouse Diana nods towards Deianeira sleeping on the deck; or at least to the heap of heavy woollen blankets over the spot where the other amazon curled into a ball a few hours ago. Giesela looks relieved to have Diana back but is determined enough not to hand control of the helm to Diana just yet. 

Through the dirty glass Diana watches Evandre crawl under the blankets with Deianeira, spooning up against the other woman’s back. Deianeira doesn’t seem to wake but when Evandre drops her arm over her lover’s upper arm a hand reaches from under the covers to take Evandre’s and the dark woman brings it to her lips, eyes still closed. Lowering their joined hands a little Deianeira tucks them under her chin and Evandre nuzzles into the back of her neck before they both still. 

Diana nudges Giesela and finally she relents, relinquishing the wheel to Diana and moving to find a space with the others. With luck they will all stay sleeping as the boat passes through the barriers that keep Themyscira hidden from this world and wake in a better one.


	2. The Very Long Day of Princess Evandre

“What are you doing?” It’s long before dawn and everyone else in the palace but the two of them is surely asleep so Diana keeps her voice hushed as she comes up behind Evandre in the hallway. Regardless of Diana’s attempt to keep quiet her sister spins around shushing Diana with a finger to her lips, far louder than Diana had asked her question. 

“I’m being stealthy.” 

And Evandre is utterly serious, despite Diana having heard her staggering around long before she passed Diana’s bedroom towards her own at the end of the corridor. Evandre’s bare feet may have kept her footsteps soft on the polished floor but the stumbles into the walls and muttering to herself had certainly not helped if she had intended to go unnoticed. 

“Of course you are.” 

Clearly her little sister had been enjoying the refreshments at this evening’s gathering down on the beach a little more than usual. Wanting to avoid the drama that would certainly follow if their mother woke and found Evandre in this condition Diana takes the girl by the shoulders, water dripping onto her hands from Evandre’s rain soaked hair, and steers her towards her room. 

Diana breathes a sigh of relief as she successfully nudges Evandre through the door without waking either Hippolyta or Philippus. Of course Philippus would easily sleep on even if Evandre had raced down the hallway singing drinking songs at the top of her voice. Going unnoticed by their mother is the far more demanding feat; it had certainly seemed when they had both been children Hippolyta was able to hear every breath and footstep they made within the palace. Luckily while the thunder from the storm outside has quieted there is still the cover of heavy rain falling outside to prevent Hippolyta from stirring at any noise they make. 

Evandre stops in the middle of the room, seemingly confused by their new location for a moment and then drops the sandals from her hand and moves to throw herself to her bed. Diana snatches Evandre’s wrist and pulls her back before she does so.

“Not yet.” Drawing out her words Diana brings Evandre with her to the linen chest containing the neatly folded thick cloths scented with lavender Larina always ensures are in each of their rooms. She grabs a towel from the chest without letting up her hold on Evandre’s wrist even as her sister sighs and wriggles in her grasp like a small child. 

“Dry off, then bed.” 

She throws the towel at Evandre’s chest and surprisingly the younger woman catches it, some of her motor skills still functioning despite the excessive amounts of wine. While Evandre follows her instructions and strips out of what little clothing she is wearing Diana lights one of the room’s fires. Once that is done and Evandre dries off Diana picks up the discarded wet leathers and places them in a laundry basket then pulls back the covers for Evandre to fall into the bed. It seems dressing herself is a little beyond Evandre’s current abilities so Diana ensures she’s tucked in beneath an extra blanket and furs. 

With half her face mashed into the pillow and slurring from the alcohol Evandre calls out Diana’s name. Diana perches on the edge of the bed and leans in to try to make out the rest of her words but only manages to catch “you’re a good sister.”

Knowing Evandre isn’t really listening to her respond, continuing to mumble to herself about sand being in places it shouldn’t, Diana tells her sister in a saccharine bedtime story voice, “I hope you had fun tonight, because you are going to feel awful by the morning.” 

She didn't expect the obstinate reply of, “No won’t.”

Evandre’s eyes are closed and her brow scrunches up as Diana kisses her cheek, “go to sleep.” And before Diana even reaches the bedroom door Evandre has rolled onto her back already asleep, mouth hanging open and snoring. 

When Evandre wakes in the morning her mouth feels as rough and dry as if she’s swallowed gravel and the light creeping in through the slats of her shuttered window burns even through her eyelids. Struggling out of bed and padding across the room to the closet her head feels like it might explode with every footstep and it's so very tempting just to curl back up in bed. But her mothers will no doubt know by now that she returned last night and failing to make an appearance at the breakfast table would only mean her Mama or Papa would come seek her out anyway. 

The hinge on the closet door protests being opened with a high pitched squeal that cuts right through her. Grabbing out the nearest dress Evandre leaves the closet open and pulls on the clothes. It seems her hair had been so wet last night that it’s remained mostly in its tight braid so she only needs to grab her gauntlets from the floor beside the bed and she's ready to go join her family for breakfast.

When she arrives Hippolyta, Philippus and Diana are already sat at the table in the courtyard; Evandre knows her parents would have been up before the sunrise when Hippolyta always begins the day at her desk going over what duties lay ahead while in the open floor of their living area Philippus goes through her calisthenics routine. While Diana would certainly wait for day break before rising she does get out of bed far earlier than Evandre has gotten used to in the past year or so. 

Evandre makes sure to pull out a chair on the side of the table where she will not be looking directly at the deep-orange morning sun, groaning in relief as she sits and the thumping behind her eyes eases somewhat. As she raises her head Evandre notes Diana looks a little too smug at her condition, so in retaliation she snatches the filled cup from in front of her sister and childishly pokes out her tongue at the older amazon. Her Papa seems to be brimming with concern as Evandre gingerly sips at the fruit juice but her Mama looks far less sympathetic and doesn’t allow a self-inflicted hangover to stop the morning interrogation of her youngest. 

“We hadn’t expected you home last night Evandre. Who were you to stay with?” 

Evandre is well aware her mothers would like nothing more than to have both her and Diana in the palace with them, it is certainly not something that goes unsaid. Honestly Evandre is still surprised Diana keeps finding her way back to her old room but she always seems more content to be home than living on her own. For now Evandre has no plans to change her wandering and the Queen and Consort would have to be satisfied with only Diana under their roof and Evandre’s frequent visits.  
Hippolyta still waits for an answer so Evandre puts the cup down, eyes squinting in the bright morning. “Venelia, but she had unexpected… company.”

Hippolyta shakes her head at the answer in a half-hearted show of disapproval but her lips twitch with a smile she can’t help. While they all know even if she wasn’t Queen, Hippolyta is not the type to join the rain soaked storm parties down on the beaches, she has taken pride and pleasure in her people finding any reason they can to dance under the starlight, drink until dawn and seek joy in each other. 

Philippus is merely intrigued by prospect of some new gossip on one of her subordinates and when her daughter has no specific details to offer the general is even keener to interrogate her guard once she reports for duty later. 

After her Papa’s questioning of Venelia’s love life is dealt with Evandre tunes out most of the morning small talk until her mother pushes a plate toward her with a plain chunk of bread and a few slices of cured meat. Evandre knows protesting would be fruitless so begins breaking small pieces of the bread off and chewing slowly on them. Her mother gives an approving nod and then pours some water from the jug into a fresh cup. 

“This should help too. Antiope is not likely to go easy on you.”

Ugh, she’d almost forgotten she won’t be in the cool studios today with Iole working on her paintings but back on the training grounds with her aunt and the other warriors. Diana, just out of her seat having already finished eating, takes Evandre’s shoulders as she stands behind the girl’s chair. “You probably don’t want to be late either.” She gives a squeeze before letting her sister go and Evandre to slumps down, dropping her head to the side of her plate. 

“Evandre. Please sit up at the table.” Without any thought Evandre responds to Hippolyta’s words and pulls herself up straight in her seat immediately. It's a little too quickly for her stomach to cope with and it roils giving her a moment to worry the meagre breakfast might make another appearance. 

Taking a deep breath seems to settle things and she sheepishly turns to Hippolyta, “Sorry Mother.” She is saved from a further lecture on manners from her mother by her Papa shooing her from the table to go change. As she makes her escape, noting the frown Hippolyta gives Philippus, Evandre cheekily reminds the Queen that being on time is also good manners; but she doesn’t quite evade the swat to the backside Hippolyta lands as she passes her mother’s chair. 

Back at her room Evandre quickly pulls her leathers from the closet. As she buckles the shoulder strap on her top she runs through a quick inventory of everything else she’ll need. She’s fully dressed for training aside from her unwrapped hands but that could be done once she gets on the fields. She’d left her bow at Otrera’s after a morning hunt a couple of days ago and they’d agreed last night, somewhere around the third or fourth cask of wine had been opened and Venelia had disappeared with Charope, that Otrera would bring it and General to meet Evandre at the palace this morning. Anything else Antiope might expect of her that required more than her horse or her bow would be provided for from the shared weapons racks so she was ready to go. Once she met up with Otrera.

Evandre knows she is running behind so heads through the palace at a jog and out the main entrance. The minute she clears the enormous carved oak gates she hears Otrera yelling at her from the bottom of the steps, “Come on Evandre. We will be late.” 

In one hand her friend holds Petra’s reins, her stocky dark grey horse looking grumpy at having to wait too and stamping a hoof on the cobbles. In her other hand Otrera holds General’s reins, Evandre’s midnight black mare. 

As Evandre greets her horse with a pat on the shoulder and then hoists herself into the saddle Otrera continues to berate her. “I’m not taking punishment laps of the training field because you’ve become lazy as an artist’s apprentice.”

In their saddles Evandre turns to the other woman. Aside from both being blonde they have few other looks in common. Where Evandre’s hair is a gold as light as a grain of white sand, Otrera’s is the dark yellow colour of fresh rolled hay; which may explain why Petra nuzzles at her neck whenever she wears it out of the usual braid. A stockier build than Evandre, Otrera has been shorter than the princess since Evandre’s growth spurt at around fourteen. And finally her grey eyes, so very different from Evandre’s crystal blue, the colour of stormy clouds which Trigona once told Evandre was a reflection of her lovably belligerent personality. 

“You never shout at Trigona like this.”

Pulling at the reins and with a well-placed nudge of the heel both amazons turn their horses away from the palace toward the road but do not yet move off. Apparently Otrera is not yet done putting Evandre in her place. 

“Trigona has the discipline to never be late. You’d think your mother might have taught you a little of that at least.”

“Good morning Otrera.” 

Queen Hippolyta does not raise her voice; it carries easily from above them as though the air knows the importance of her words and will take them anywhere. 

Otrera freezes, closes her eyes as if in pain and Evandre simply grins at her friend smugly. Without opening her eyes and trying to make herself as small as possible in her saddle Otrera raises her voice to respond. “Good morning my Queen.” 

Even from the top of the sweeping stone steps Hippolyta can see Otrera has gone a little red in the cheeks which is not helped by Evandre’s teasing, whispered under her breath hoping her mother can’t hear her. When no reprimand comes Evandre and Otrera spur on their horses and ride off for training. Otrera’s remarks hardly warranted more than the reminder she could be overheard and they will both be in far more trouble if they do not arrive with Antiope in a timely manner. 

Hippolyta watching the friendship between the two of them develop over the last few years had at one time thought perhaps they might become romantic but it seems to have developed into something more like the kind of bond she shares with Antiope. Though her daughters certainly had their childish sibling moments, on the whole Evandre looked to her older sister for comfort and guidance, a bond they had shared since Evandre was a baby brought home by Diana. It was with Otrera that Evandre had found a sister to play with and argue with, the favoured sibling to tease, annoy and irritate with a surprising amount of affection. 

Evandre and Otrera arrived just in time for the roll call, to a stern glare from Antiope and a fair amount of eye rolling from Trigona who held their places in formation. In the hours since the three of them had been sending volley after volley of arrows into targets and by the time Menalippe called for the morning break Evandre’s shoulders and back ached more than she ever remembered them doing when she had trained every day. 

In less than three weeks the annual festival that was held to celebrate the anniversary of the amazon’s arrival on Themyscira. As she apprenticed with Iole, Evandre had been aware of artisans across the island labouring over new works for months already; musicians producing new melodies to play along with the old favourites they rehearsed; dramas being written to entertain the crowds that would fill the city for days- soliloquies for the poets who walk amongst the markets that spring up outside the city wall, epics for the players in the amphitheatre. And Evandre herself was working on a series of wood panel paintings for the occasion under Iole’s watchful gaze. 

During this time Hippolyta and the senate organised the people and institutions of the city so all who wished to come to the capital to celebrate were accommodated, that there would be enough food and wine so see no visitor go without. They also ensured that each of the villages and towns across the island had any addition they needed to hold their own scaled down festivals; every amazon was a vibrant and vital part of Themyscira and all would be honoured and celebrated.

And of course the warriors prepared for the games; two full days of matches and contests not only for Antiope’s Army and Philippus’ Royal Guards but any amazons skilled at various weapons or fighting styles who may have chosen other occupations but could not resist the lure of competition. 

Only a few days ago Antiope declared over dinner that Evandre would need a refresher in her training to ensure she gave her best when she represented the royal family in the archery events. Desperate to prove to her aunt she was still more than capable Evandre could proudly say she had out shot both of her friends this morning, but they were certainly faring far better in stamina than the younger woman. Collapsing into the grass, still dew damp in the shade, Evandre rests her forehead against Otrera’s thigh. It’s not an especially wise decision when they are both uncomfortably hot and sweaty and Otrera slaps her away absently with the back of a hand, a horse tail flicking at a nuisance fly. 

“I’m spending the whole evening in the pools after today,” Evandre moans. 

Otrera and Trigona offer no sympathy, knowing despite the whining Evandre enjoys every moment of training even though she is out of practice with the daily discomfort and aches that come with it. They pass their food between them, laughing and joking like old times and it barely seems like it’s been a year, almost two, since they’ve been together just like this. 

Evandre had grown up on the training grounds with these two watching over her. When she was barely a teenager they had eagerly taken to teaching her all they knew, while obviously protective and guiding the pair had treated her far more like an equal than the other warriors who still saw her as their little princess. They’d seen her through from awkward child into young capable amazon. 

While Evandre found her artists apprenticeship more than fulfilling, transfixed by Iole as she taught new techniques and styles before losing herself for hours or days to perfecting them, just as she had when Antiope began to teach her the use of weaponry, Evandre missed spending her days with Otrera and Trigona. Trading arrows and swords for chalks and paint brushes had come easy but she hadn’t realised just how much she would miss simply being able to do as they were now, laying entwined on the grass under clear blue skies before Menalippe would call them back to the archery range. 

Trigona and Evandre had spent all morning, between Antiope telling the three of them to be quiet and concentrate, trying to get details from Otrera on her mystery woman of the last few days. The blonde was still as yet reluctant to share details of the blossoming romance with her friends. 

Trigona takes another guess, determined she can wear Otrera down by the end of the day if not by the end of their morning break. “Is it Venelia?” Otrera laughs her off which gives away nothing. “I’m sure she’s bedded half the island.” 

There’s a wistfulness to Trigona’s statement that leads Evandre to believe Trigona is not included in that half but would certainly like to be.

“Not me.” Evandre leans on one elbow now but is still lying in the grass, pulling little blades up one at a time. 

“Thankfully not your mothers either.” Otrera responds with a smirk and Evandre throws the last piece of the bread at her. It only encourages Otrera, “though I had heard Diana…” she drops off before Evandre even yells ‘no’ at her, intending only to tease. 

“You know the rules.” They do not discuss Diana’s love life, or her mothers. Otrera only laughs. From under a nearby tree Menalippe calls everyone back to their positions. Trigona rolls away from the pair and then stands while Otrera uses Evandre’s back as leverage to push herself up from the ground. As a peace offering she holds out her hand to help Evandre up and they head back to the archery range. 

It’s just after sunset when they are finally in the bathing pools. As usual a rowdy group of warriors take to the largest pool burning off the last of their energy and settling any unfished sparing matches with playful splashes. A few amazons have taken to the infirmary pools to allow Epione and her fellow healers to deal with any aggravated injuries, while Evandre has moved to one of the hot baths in an alcove off the main chamber. With the water lapping just below her ears, soaking the tendrils of her hair that have fallen loose, Evandre reconsiders spending the whole evening here- surely a mere four or five hours might just be enough to ease the soreness in her muscles. 

She is almost drifting off to sleep when Otrera splashes in next to her. 

“I think you’ll find the rest of the children in the other pool,” Evandre mutters, closing her eyes again. 

“You really are your mother’s daughter.” Otrera eases back in to the carved ledge, hot water rising to her neck and sighs deeply. “Admit it, you miss this.”

“I do,” Evandre concedes. “But I really love what I’m doing now too.”

“Ugh. You can’t be a painter your whole life.”

Beneath the water Otrera nudges at Evandre with her elbow and of course the younger woman nudges right back. 

“I don’t plan to be,” Evandre responds, not even realising that’s how she felt until she finds herself saying the words. But it’s true, about painting and about being a warrior; she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her ‘whole life’ yet but she knows she hasn’t quite found her fit. 

“Don’t tell me you will be one of those amazons flitting from farming to architecture to weaving,” Otrera splutters. The other woman must have slid further down in the pool next to her as Evandre hears the water bubbling from her lips as she speaks.

“And you will spend centuries firing arrows into clay targets?”

Otrera seems to consider Evandre’s question for quiet moment. “I would try goat herding.” 

She sounds serious. Evandre opens one eye to glance at her friend but Otrera’s face gives nothing away even as she continues, “If I could shoot at the goats.”

Evandre snorts a laugh and closes her eyes again leaning her neck back against the pools edge. “I think they frown on that.”

“I guess I’ll have to stick with being a warrior then,” she sighs contentedly. 

Just a few more minutes Evandre tells herself, knowing full well it’s a lie and her body has decided it will take drastic and painful action of its own if she tries to move any time soon. She and Otrera sit side by side in silence, the echoes of the other amazons bouncing off the rock walls and ceiling fading as their sisters begin to leave the bathing pools, until they are among the few left.

“Sooo…” Evandre starts. There’s no movement aside from the slight weightless bobbing of their arms in the water and neither woman opens their eyes, “Is it Egeria?”


	3. The Artist and the Stranger

Evandre drops her sketchbook to her knees, done with the lines that captured the scene of the latest arrivals to the city. Wielding a stick of charcoal she had swiftly committed to paper the two women who passed her on the roadside, strolling arm in arm through the hazy light of morning. It was the taller of the two with fiery auburn hair lit up by the low sun and leathers stained a shade of crimson, the fabric beneath orange and gold, who had captured Evandre’s interest. Her musical laughter blending with the calls of the morning birds as she bent down to nuzzle at the neck of her amused partner as they walked by.

Twirling the charcoal in her fingers Evandre looks up to the road for whatever new subject might pass by her next. From under an old olive tree beside one of the main roads into the Capitol she’s watched the last of the amazons arriving for today’s opening of the festivities. She’d set herself down before the sun had climbed the sky with a satchel of supplies beside her, charcoal and chalk along with a pomegranate for herself and an apple for General. She looks up for her horse and can see the dark mare beyond the walled garden where she sits, head down to the roadside searching for a treat in the undergrowth as Evandre has managed to keep the apple well-hidden so far. 

There’s no fear of General wandering off too far so Evandre is happy to leave her be. At least outside the towering city wall there is no chance of her eating someone’s carefully cultivated flowers from a window box. As her horse roams almost out of sight at the crossroads the animal is approached by an Amazon from the other way along the curling perimeter road of the city. While she is coming from the direction of the east gates of the Capitol, Evandre assumes she is a visitor who has arrived before this morning as it is clear the other woman does not live here; mainly as Evandre does not recognise her face. She would definitely have noticed this woman if they walked the same streets every day. She’s beautiful, the literal definition of breath-taking as Evandre’s lips part and her chest tightens. 

The woman’s coal black hair hangs loose, catching in the breeze just as General’s mane does when the animal lifts her head from the clump of grasses she’d found, her attention also caught by this newcomer. General stands still allowing the stranger to come close and then stroke her nose before she nudges her head into the woman’s shoulder making her chuckle. That done the horse wanders back toward Evandre and the woman trails along beside her. Scrambling to her feet, dropping the charcoal and sketchbook to her satchel, Evandre wipes her hands on the loose calf length trousers she wears, too distracted to realise she’s marking the pale cloth with grey smudges. 

As they come closer Evandre drinks in as much of the sight of this woman as she can; the coloured strips of fabric braided into the woman’s hair, the stiff leather of her halter and skirt marking it as new armour never worn for fighting, the gauntlets at her wrists easily catching the light with their metal pieces newly shined and polished. But holding most of Evandre’s attention are the expanses of skin, a rich brown some shades lighter than her Papa’s; the well-defined muscles of her arm flexing as she reaches to stroke the length of General’s flank. 

The pair come to a stop just on the opposite side of the low stone wall to Evandre and the stranger appraises her a moment before asking, “Does she belong to you?” 

It’s not entirely clear if she’s addressing Evandre or the horse but before Evandre can respond herself General gives an affirmative snort, obviously taking the question as hers to answer and claiming the amazon. 

“General, come.” Far more like an obedient dog than a horse, General trots to the end of the wall and into the park, looping back towards Evandre but then easily distracted by some tasty looking greenery nearby.

“General? Someone has high ambitions.” 

And Evandre realises that this woman has no idea who she is. Her whole life, with everything she has done and person she has met, Evandre has been preceded by her name, her title, her mothers and sister. A strange giddiness overcomes her to think this is the first person in her life to ever know just Evandre and suddenly she is unable to find any words, a dreaded warmth climbing her cheeks and neck. 

The stranger doesn’t let Evandre’s lack of response dissuade her from striking up conversation and she continues to chatter, occasionally raising murmurs from the younger woman before continuing. She compliments General, telling Evandre she is a horse trainer in the hills just outside of Abila. Not one for town life she has a modest home and some land close to where the wild horses roam. Evandre is transfixed as the woman describes the colours, sounds and smells of the morning sunrise over the paddocks and summer rainclouds drifting in over the hills. Her excitement over the celebrations in the Capitol tumbles over her words when she tells the story of her journey to the coast with other riders and horse traders from Abila, bringing some of their finest animals to race.

As she speaks Evandre edges ever closer until they are separated by the barrier of stones and little else. The stranger holds Evandre’s gaze as she speaks, not once breaking the contact even when General returns to Evandre’s side and ducks her head expectantly and the woman reaches a hand up to absently to rub at the mare’s forehead.

When she does turn to Evandre’s needy horse the young woman is sure General melts at the attention just as much as she does. 

“She is beautiful. Though I expect you’ll retire her from riding soon. When you need another horse I could find just the right one for you.” 

Evandre’s thoughts stutter to a halt on the word beautiful and it takes a moment for her to catch up with the rest of what the woman is saying. Before she can defend her steed three women all call out from further up the road. 

As they both turn to look the shortest woman of the group bellows, “Deianeira. Come, we have work to do.”

Deianeira gives a final scratch to General’s nose before stepping back from Evandre and turning toward her friends. After a few paces she stops and glances back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised in question. “Well Artist, are you going to come and help?”

Their small group had been assigned to setting up trellis tables along the terraced gardens overlooking the ocean. Deianeira has taken to calling her ‘Artist’ and so her friends have followed suit without bothering to ask for Evandre’s name and helping here rather than the training grounds means Evandre can enjoy her anonymity a while longer, receiving only nods and pleasant smiles from those who obviously recognise her. 

The other women from Abila are all welcoming and their company makes the rest of the morning’s work far less of a chore than it would otherwise be. Cynna, the short stocky amazon with muscles to rival Artemis, has a joke for everything; Marpe and Pharetre, identical in every way that Evandre can tell, bicker constantly in a rapid back and forth she can barely follow. Repeatedly Evandre is told by Marpe she is older than her sister, with Pharetre stood behind and out of view shaking her head to disagree. As they lay out starched white clothes on the long tables among cypress trees and colourful blooms, white peacocks strolling lazily around their feet, Evandre feels bad to find herself wishing the three women had tasks elsewhere so she might get some time alone with Deianeira

By early afternoon they move on to the beach to help build the line of pyres spaced out along the shoreline and Evandre steers her new companions away from the warriors who know her so well to an area where again it seems mostly visiting women or faces she recognises only in passing are working. 

Nearby Menalippe patrols the beach, guiding the amazons overall efforts to ensure every team has their work completed in good time. The duty of overseeing the organisation of the opening evening fell to her after Antiope’s demotion the previous year; Hippolyta was not impressed with her sister treating the volunteers like new recruits. Now relegated to supervising only her warriors and with the army occupied building up their pyres Antiope finds herself trailing after Menalippe, hoping for some other task to be given. 

Bored and kicking up sand with her boot Antiope gazes down the beach and spots their niece assisting a group of women she does not recognise. She is about to call out when Menalippe pulls her sharply in the opposite direction. 

“Mena, did you not see…” she starts but is interrupted by her wife.

“I saw her. And far clearer than you did.”

Confused Antiope looks back to Evandre as the girl darts across the sand to take an armful of kindling from one woman. She smiles and ducks her head as she is obviously thanked and then the woman runs her hand down Evandre’s bare arm. 

“When did that happen? And who is she?” Antiope practically growls the questions, her protective nature getting the best of her. Menalippe takes Antiope’s hand and keeps walking her along the sands away from Evandre, her wife throwing threatening glances behind them as they go. 

“I don’t think anything has happened. Yet. But I’m sure Evandre would appreciate us leaving them alone to find out if something does.”

Menalippe gives an extra tug to let Antiope know she can mutter and grumble all she likes about strange women seducing their niece but Menalippe is not allowing her anywhere near the pair of them. At least for now; whether she lets the General loose on the other amazon will dependent entirely on what information she gets from Otrera later.

Once the preparations are done Evandre gives Deianeira and the others directions for the quickest route back to the stables where their horses are being cared for and then finds herself wandering through the food stalls and merchants who had been setting up over the course of the day. New voices and familiar ones rise and fall around her but Evandre feels apart from it. Instead she finds herself listening only for Deianeira’s voice amongst the din, searching the crowds for the other woman’s face until she makes it inside the palace gates. 

Evandre finds a few hours at home a definite distraction for her unfocused and wandering mind but it is certainly not peaceful. Diana helps her choose what to wear for the evening but their first and second choices are immediately overruled by her Papa and even their mother cannot make her see reason. The third choice is an ankle length laurel green silk dress that falls across one shoulder, belted at the waist with a silver cord. This one finally meets with Papa’s approval and so Hippolyta can set to work plaiting lengths of the green and silver ribbons into small braids, Evandre choosing to wear her hair down like her mother. 

Once they have taken their places at the head table for the feast Hippolyta gives her speech welcoming their guests, their family, home for the celebrations. Two seats down from her mother Evandre tries to look like she is listening as she scans the tables nearby, but Deianeira’s party must be seated at one of the peripheral gatherings, most likely the tables they set up this morning. 

The meal is long and while conversation is not boring, she loves hearing her parents and aunts talk of their early days on Themyscira, she would rather be elsewhere tonight. Beside her Menalippe rises from her seat to fill her wine cup, waving off an attendant who jumps out of her seat at their own table to serve her. She leans on the back of Evandre’s chair keeping her voice low enough so no one nearby can overhear as she says, “stop squirming in your seat Evandre or your mother will ask questions.” There’s a puff of air against the girl’s ear when Menalippe does her best to hold back a laugh at Evandre’s alarmed expression. “Dinner is almost over and then you can go find your friend.”

When the meal draws to a close all the amazons gather on the beach as the sun dips into the ocean; the great line of fires are lit and musicians pick up their instruments. A few times Evandre cautiously attempts to leave her mothers’ side as the Queen and her Consort make the rounds of Senators and visiting dignitaries but she is always dragging into the greetings and discussions before she gets anywhere. It isn’t until Menalippe appears, touching Hippolyta’s elbow to draw her attention and then pointing toward a small group of women nearby waiting to speak to her that Evandre can escape unnoticed. 

Almost an hour later the idea of seeking out an unfamiliar face in the night seems foolish and near impossible. The sky is clear and full of stars but with only a sliver of moon light Evandre is relying on the roaring fires to lead her quest and they seem to cast more shadows than light. She keeps searching regardless and when Evandre finally spots Deianeira, gazing toward one of the pyres enchanted by the flames dancing to drum beats, the girl wonders how she could have thought of that face as unfamiliar; from only a few hours spent together Evandre has every line and contour captured in her memory perfectly. 

As she sidles up to Deianeira the younger amazon offers a greeting but it goes unheard and instead she’s noticed only when she’s right next to the horsewoman, who gives a startled squeak and raises a hand to her heart. Though immediately recognition causes a smile to appear on Deianeira’s face and she relaxes, her other hand reaching out to brush Evandre’s arm. Neither of them can hear the other above the music and over the loud singing and whooping of their fellow amazons, so after a couple of attempts they find themselves merely regarding each other and holding a conversation with locked eyes, the curve of their lips, the shake of a head. And with their hands; Evandre tentatively reaching out and Deianeira eagerly knitting their fingers together. 

As the rhythm of the drums slows they come together to dance. Sparking embers from the fires float lazily in the dark around them and Evandre gazes at their reflections in Deianeira’s eyes. She doesn’t even notice how close they are pressed together until the other woman pulls away and Deianeira’s hand that had been resting on Evandre’s shoulder trails down to catch her own, pulling the younger woman along with her away from the water. 

There’s a stand of trees nearby where the sand gives way to soil and in their shelter the sounds around them fade leaving Evandre to hear her impossibly loud heartbeat. She’s painfully conscious of her own breathing as it slows down in time with the movement of Deianeira’s fingers drawing through her hair, catching the small braids, ghosting down the side of her face. A thumb brushes her bottom lip and Evandre isn’t sure she knows how to breathe anymore. 

Deianeira leans in close, her head to the side of Evandre’s pressing their cheeks together and breathing in her ear, “Is this okay?” Pulling back she watches the young woman nod, a little wide-eyed. She waits patiently for a proper answer, gently stroking her fingers along Evandre’s jaw. She’s unsure if being barely able to hear the response is due to the party going on nearby or how quiet the other woman is but she does eventually hear it and the shape of the word on her lips is unmistakable. 

“Yes.”

The kiss is far better than Deianeira had been imagining all day; the coy giddy excitement she’d found so charming in the woman this morning is in every part of it. Their lips touch briefly then the artist draws back a little, as though a spark had been lit between them, before she drives forward and their lips meet again. Her hands at Deianeira’s waist, fingertips searching until they find bare skin just above her belt, are feather light until the kiss deepens and then they press into her skin desperately. 

Unexpectedly, as if surprised by her own actions and overwhelmed by the sudden desire and urgency, the other woman pulls away from her. Deianeira feels the tremor that runs through the hands that still lay on her. “It’s okay,” she reassures, noting that at her words a little of the confusion and hesitance in those blue eyes melts away. She doesn’t push for another kiss but lowers her hands from tousled blonde hair to the other woman’s shoulders and gently pulls the two of them closer together. 

Deianeira knows there are any number of reasons why she may not feel ready, for a start they barely even know each other. Maybe some past lover broke her artist’s heart with stolen kisses just like this one. Or perhaps it stirred some memory from life before Themyscira the other woman had thought long grieved, buried and forgotten and Deianeira knows that feeling all too well. 

Evandre’s heart pounds, and holding each other close in the dark Deianeira feels the beating against her own chest. Then the other woman’s head bows forward and soft lips are pressing against her neck. Relieved Deianeira lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. 

Butterfly kisses trail up her skin and just before they reach Deianeira’s lips a voice calls out nearby, “Evandre.”

They both startle and pull back but before Deianeira can resume their kiss the other woman is looking wildly behind her to where the voice came from, as though someone is calling for her.

“Evandre,” Deianeira feels the name in her mouth. The guilty look washing over the other woman’s face sets aside any doubt and Deianeira realises who her artist is.


	4. What You Become

Deianeira was always a touch nervous when one of her horses came into the main arena for assessment. Seeing a wild horse’s potential, roping it and convincing it to allow a saddle or harness was certainly challenging work in itself but the true effort came in getting a horse trained to the levels that would need to be demonstrated in the arena for the General Antiope. Deianeira often thought this was akin to the impossible tasks once set out by Gods testing mortals. The horses should be able to obey both physical and verbal commands and display power and agility far beyond most animals’ natural abilities; all while not being distracted or agitated by clashing swords, flames, passing arrows and the shouts of warriors. In the arena a number of the General’s soldiers provided more than adequate test conditions, the din enough to spook Deianeira at times let alone a horse not aware the chaos around them was being staged.

Standing in the sawdust of the arena against the outer fences Deianeira watched one of her favoured horses led out to face the General, a bulky stallion that could easily be overlooked for riding in favour of pulling a cart. The animal was surprisingly swift and Deianeira had worked hard to train him to shift his great momentum in any direction at the slightest touch of the reins. As his current rider drove him on to slalom through a tight group of women clashing with swords, the powerful legs thundering within inches of the fighters, Deianeira looked to the General to see how impressed, or not, she was with the demonstration.

General Antiope stood in the royal box area of the spectator stands, forgoing the ornate looking chairs across the back of the raised platform. Antiope was certainly a woman who did not need either a royal or military title to be commanding; holding her back straight and shoulders tight her icy dark blue eyes focussed on every movement of the horse she was judging, at the same time letting no action of her warriors go unnoticed either. 

Something Deianeira had not seen from their General before though was the gentleness with which she held Princess Evandre’s hand. The young girl must be nearing her sixth birthday by now and it seems almost a lifetime ago that Diana had been so small and running around the island. Another lifetime before that when Deianeira had last seen young boys and girls playing together, screaming and chasing each other or clinging to their mother’s skirts.

Deianeira watches the little blonde head peek out from around Antiope’s leg as she hides behind it, wide eyed at the spectacle of the horse and rider amongst the clashing warriors. Given that their youngest Princess is a child born of man and not amazon it is amusing to see just how much the girl favours the looks of her aunt and her mother. One small hand is clasped in the General’s, the other wrapped over Antiope’s closed hand as she practically hangs off the woman’s arm.

As the demonstration comes to an end Antiope gives a small nod to Parthenia that she would like the stallion to be placed in the paddock with the others she has selected so far. Then she looks down at the Princess, giving a little tug on her arm that gets the girl’s attention. They’re too far for Deianeira to make out any words but the girl looks down to the floor as though she’s embarrassed by something she thinks she’s done wrong. The General crouches before Evandre and taps a finger under her chin to coax her to raise her head. Antiope’s back is to Deianeira now but she can see the Princess’ face and the timid smile that pulls at her lips before Antiope takes her in her arms and stands, settling the girl on her hip.

Now Deianeira stands watching a different display, not one of her horses but the last rounds of the archery contests. She’s not entirely aware of making her way through the spectators to find a spot with a view of the competitors that still kept her concealed amongst the crowd but she would be foolish to say she didn’t know what had drawn her here.

Evandre waits, impatiently it appears, with a group of challengers for her turn. Standing to the side of a bench where most of her competition sit she looks as anxious as she did before their kiss last night and that particular train of thought makes Deianeira’s stomach flutter and heart clench a little. Neither of them had spoken after the revelation of who Evandre was. The voice had called out again for the princess as Deianeira still shook her head to clear the foggy disbelief, hands falling away from who she had thought was her artist. Taking a step back, unable to look at the younger woman she had simply said, “Go.”

Evandre stumbled backwards as though she’d been punched, the loose dirt and stones shifting beneath her feet and unable to steady herself. “I’m…” she didn’t or couldn’t finish saying what she was, maybe she didn’t know herself. Without another word she made off toward whoever called for her, leaving Deianeira in the dark alone.

Through empty streets Deianeira had walked back to Shirin’s home where she had been staying the past few days and simply fallen to the bed fully clothed, hoping the numerous cups of wine would allow her a dreamless sleep. Come morning she was happy to let Shirin assume the effects of the alcohol kept her quiet. Wisely her friend had not questioned her as she left breakfast untouched with the excuse of having to tend to the horses, despite the fact that they had arranged grooms. But the horses provided only a temporary distraction and once Cynna and Marpesia arrived and began asking after the artist Deianeira made her excuses again, saying she had to meet with Pharetre at the race tracks.

Yet somehow she had found herself standing here at the archery ranges. Watching Evandre. Her artist, but not.

Still waiting her turn the younger woman pulls at the wrap on her palm, unfurling the already tight fabric only to wind it back in place again. The fourth time Deianeira watches her do this is when General Antiope steps before Evandre. Once again they are too far from Deianeira for her to hear the words between them as the older woman takes Evandre’s right hand and rewraps it. Slowly she lowers her niece’s arm and then repeats the procedure with her left. Once done she taps underneath the younger amazon’s chin to raise her head up from the floor.

There’s a ghost of a smile and Deianeira thinks maybe she sees a few tears before Evandre blinks them away. Then Antiope gives the girl’s hand a squeeze, followed by a not so gentle nudge toward the racks where a number of bows rest. Deianeira doesn’t recall much about the scoring of archery contests but that doesn’t seem to be an issue once she finds herself far too distracted watching Evandre using the weapon to observe the target.

Long blonde hair that Evandre kept having to brush from her face while they worked yesterday is pulled high on her head and laced in a braid that runs perfectly straight down the back of her neck to just below her shoulders. Last night Deianeira had been pleasantly surprised by her artist’s change from loose linen to elegant gown but what Evandre wears now is stunning. The halter top stops just above her ribs and as she takes a deep breath before pulling back the bow string Deianeira is fixated on the muscles above her belly which tighten and rise. The skirt is a light green fabric with leather panelling that rests low on her hips, two straps crossing the waist in a belt. With the panelling splitting from the top of her thigh and the length of the skirt barely even reaching her knee there is a fair amount of leg on show as she steps forward. Yesterday Deianeira could not help herself from casual touches of Evandre’s arms at any given opportunity, marvelling how an artist had gained such definition of muscle. Seeing her at work with the bow certainly explains that mystery, her arms straining against the pressure of the string and curved wooden limb of the weapon. 

Evandre takes a breath and lets the arrow go, holding her posture steady as she watches its flight and then five more arrows follow in quick succession before she relaxes her stance. When Evandre steps back to allow the next amazon up to compete it’s straight into the arms of General Philippus. After a moment’s endurance she shyly ducks out of her mother’s embrace and shrugs off the praise she is obviously being given.

The young amazon must be done with her heat for the day as she and Philippus move away from the ranges. Immediately Deianeira drops back into the crowd, not ready yet to be seen by Evandre and instead bringing herself right into the path of Pharetre. Pleased by their fortuitous meeting Pharetre eagerly gives Deianeira her assessment of the race tracks and the horses she’s seen racing through the morning, oblivious to whether the other woman is listening or not. Together they move with the flow of women through the sprawling stalls lining the roads outside of the Capitol and like being caught in the current of a stream they are lead to the market square inside the city wall.

Pharetre breaks off when she spots a refreshment stand and Deianeira steps aside to wait for her, stopping before a musician playing a lyre. It’s an old tune and one she hasn’t heard in a long time so Deianeira tries to ignore the buzzing of the many voices around her and focus on the woman’s fingers dancing over the strings, until a familiar voice calls out her name.

Deianeira takes a moment to turn wanting the time to compose herself and when she does Evandre is looking to the Queen beside her. Once Hippolyta dips her head in approval the young woman jogs over to her, dodging through the women milling between them. Pharetre appears at her shoulder as Evandre reaches them and she gives the young amazon a polite greeting before promptly announcing she’s needed elsewhere with her sister. Evandre asks her to pass on her regards while Deianeira shoots Pharetre a look of betrayal, despite the fact that she had not shared any details of last night with the other woman.

When Deianeira says nothing Evandre’s eagerness fades. “I thought maybe we should talk. About last night.”

“So talk.”

“I’m…” frustratingly the younger woman’s attempted explanation stops dead, again.

A little angrier than she intends Deianeira fires back, “You’re what, Artist? You’re sorry you lied to me? You’re not who you led me to believe?”

“I didn’t lie. You never asked me my name.” Evandre has brought her arms tight across her chest, defiant and defensive. The young amazon is so close to pouting that if Deianeira weren’t so infuriated with her she might find it cute; but if Evandre takes this any further toward a juvenile tantrum Deianeira might just lose any calm she is clinging to.

“As much as everyone here may think you are a child, you are not one. And you know perfectly well you lied to me even if it wasn’t in words.”

Chastised Evandre unfolds her arms and drops them to her side, head bowed and one toe scuffing against the ground. Maybe she is more child than Deianeira wants to believe, but then Evandre sucks in a breath and squares her shoulders. “You’re right,” she declares, nodding her head a little in agreement with her own words. Holding out her hand to Deianeira she flashes a bright smile, “Hi. I’m Evandre.”

The dark woman rolls her eyes but can’t stop one corner of her mouth rising a little. Instead of taking the offered hand she bats it away lightly with a laugh but Evandre continues regardless, “I wondered if you might take a walk with me.”

The younger woman seems so different now from yesterday. One kiss has made her bolder, far more sure of herself and Deianeira finds she likes it just as much as cautious and tentative Evandre. “I’d be honoured, Princess.”

She takes a step forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with the younger woman and Evandre leans her head closer to utter quietly, “I prefer Artist.”

Then it is Deianeira’s turn to show a brilliant smile. “So do I.”

They spend a little time wandering together, relaxing into each other’s company with every step. With the sun lowering in the sky and the crush of people in the market thinning out the air becomes chill and Deianeira finds herself pressing closer to Evandre as they walk, their upper arms touching. When their meandering path leads them close again to the Queen, General Philippus and their retinue Evandre drags Deianeira over for introductions.

“Mother, Papa, this is Deianeira. She was one of the women I was helping yesterday before the feast.”

General Philippus reaches out to clasp a hand around her forearm and Deianeira returns the gesture. She gives a slight bow towards the Queen as Hippolyta regards her a moment. “You are from Kameiros.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, perhaps Hippolyta has her confused with someone else from that port city. “No my Queen, Abila. I tend to the wild horses in the hills, train those I can catch. I have supplied a few to the Royal Stables over the years.”

A hint of recognition flashes in the General’s eyes, “Tachus was one of yours?”

As she confirms Philippus’ enquiry Deianeira notes the Queen is looking at her with far more familiarity than a slight recollection of one horse.

Before speaking Hippolyta confirms her guards’ attentions are elsewhere and only Philippus is listening closely to their words, though she cannot help that her daughter will wonder over what she says next. “No, before Abila.”

Hippolyta offers a small smile of reassurance as she takes Deianeira’s hand. Not as Philippus had but holding Deianeira’s lightly between both of hers. “Before Themyscira.”

Deianeira swallows hard before replying. Voice cracking slightly she manages to get out, “Yes my Queen.”

And they both share the memory of rusted but strong chains holding the young amazon to a wall, and of the fierce new Queen breaking her free.

Evandre frowns a little at the exchange but lets the moment pass without comment. The girl knows enough to see that the conversation is very much between Deianeira and her mother alone and not for her. Then almost effortlessly Hippolyta lifts the heavy atmosphere, her welcome of Deianeira to the city putting the other woman at ease as though casting a spell over her. The Queen remarks on upcoming equestrian events, drawing Deianeira into conversation about the horses she brings, then of her village and the woman there.

When one of the guards reminds the Queen they are due elsewhere Deianeira thanks Hippolyta and Philippus for the company but before she can take her leave Evandre offers to walk her back to where she is staying. There is no more small talk between them, happy to walk beside each other in silence. Out the corner of her eye Deianeira notices Evandre daring to snatch glances at her, so timing it just right she is looking at Evandre the next time she tries. Knowing she’s been caught the younger woman gives a little grin but doesn’t turn away this time.

Reaching Shirin’s ochre red painted door they both stop.

“I will see you tomorrow?” Evandre is so eager Deianeira barely hears it as a question but regardless of what she feels for the younger woman she is too wary to simply answer yes.

“I’m not sure that is wise.”

Evandre’s face falls and Deianeira reaches out to cup her cheek. Evandre leans in to the touch, eyes wide and imploring and every part of Deianeira screams it is best to end this now before either of them is hurt. “I leave in two days.”

“Then we have two days.” She takes Deianeira’s hand from her cheek, holds it firmly between both of hers against her chest. “Please come to my exhibit tomorrow. Then decide if you wish to spend your last day with me.”

It is difficult to say no to her and Deianeira knows without a doubt it will only lead to trouble. But she has a feeling trouble with Evandre could be so much fun. When she asks where she will need to go tomorrow Evandre’s face lights up; mouth wide in a grin, the tip of her tongue peeking out from her teeth, cheeks dimpled and eyes sparkling like crystals. And Deianeira thinks of all the things she’d say yes to just to be able to see that face again and again.

The following afternoon once her work is done for the day Deianeira walks to the small gallery housing Evandre’s work. She’s barely stepped through the doorway when the younger woman notices her entrance and excuses herself from whoever she is talking to and bounding across the room to meet Deianeira.

“You came.”

“I was informed I would find some beautiful work on display.”

Evandre lowers her voice and in a serious tone answers, “I’m afraid whoever told you that may have exaggerated.”

But Deianeira finds no words could have been an exaggeration, Evandre’s work is exquisite. The painted panels hung along one wall tell the history of their people: an amazon rising from dark crushing waves unbowed, a battle scene with more detail than could be taken in even if she studied it for hours, a portrait of Hippolyta resplendent in gold as she took the first step onto Themyscira’s shore. One panel in particular captivates Deianeira, one of their sisters in chains, thick iron manacles on her wrists. Deianeira can only marvel at Evandre’s ability to illustrate the pain, anger and hope in the woman’s eyes when all she has known since a baby is the safety and comfort of life on their island.

“It’s…” Now Deianeira is the one lost for words. Regardless of what she may have wanted to voice to Evandre about her painting she finds herself saying instead, “Your mother, she rescued me.”

She can sees the pieces falling in to place for Evandre from yesterday’s meeting with Hippolyta. When the young woman darts a look to the painting that had held Deianeira’s attention her words rush out, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Deianeira stops her by holding a hand to her chest, palm flat against the bare skin above the neckline of her tunic. “Of course you should.” She looks back to the painting, waiting for Evandre to follow her gaze. “What is there to celebrate if we don’t remember?”

One of Evandre’s hands comes up to rest over hers and she murmurs quietly, almost to herself. “I don’t remember anything before Themyscira.”

When they see each other on the last day Deianeira tells Evandre with a smirk it is merely so she and Cynna have an extra pair of hands to help with the packing before they have to meet with the sisters and leave for Abila.

When she returns two weeks later she is sure to let Evandre know she’s on a necessary trip to sell horses, and seeing Evandre again is simply a pleasant addition.

In the weeks that follow there is a friend’s wedding, a symposium, and more trading trips than Deianeira has ever personally made to the Capitol (but she doesn’t share that small detail with Evandre). Each time they meet it is in the company of others; evening meals with friends, beside each other in the amphitheatre, lounging on the beach in the afternoon sun. Where they are able to sneak off unnoticed kisses are stolen, or unseen beneath tables their fingers entwine. 

Approaching the city one late morning Deianeira spots Evandre sat under the same tree as when they’d first met. Her sketchbook is set aside as she takes a bite of an apple, while she chews General stomps at the grass beside her and she obliges her horse by tossing the rest of the fruit to the mare. After wiping her hands on her trousers the young amazon rolls to her side to pick up her drawings, which is when she notices Deianeira’s approach.

As Evandre gets to her feet and saunters to the low stone wall surrounding the park Deianeira slides from her saddle, dropping to the roadway. Taking the reins of her horse she leads him over to the other woman, Evandre laughing as she calls out, “you’ve only been gone two days.”

When Deianeira is close enough Evandre throws a quick look around, checking the roads for any passing amazon who might see them before placing her palms on the stonework and leaning across the wall to kiss her lightly on the lips. Then she murmurs against them, “What urgent business could possibly bring you back so soon?”

Deianeira pulls back and Evandre gives a little whine until the dark woman responds, “You.”


	5. Bringing Change

Looking out from the beach the waters Deianeira and Evandre had been swimming in most of the morning are a patchwork of blue; bright cyan where the dazzling light bounces back from the white sand seabed, vivid azure everywhere the coral reefs stretch across the cove, with darker shadows of fish shoals darting through them, and deep royal blue as the shallows give way to the depths of the ocean. The sun is high in the sky with not a touch of white cloud so the line on the horizon where it touches the ocean can barely be made out, just another shade of the blue before them.

Evandre had found this deserted stretch of beach on her wanderings as a child. Barely an hours hike from the main beach that attracts amazons of the Capitol when they want to escape the city on days too warm for anything other than lazing on the sands or diving into the cooling ocean, it was far enough away for Evandre to feel her adventurous spirit had brought her upon undiscovered territory. And now, bringing Deianeira here where they could be entirely alone, eased the anxiety that crept in on Evandre when they spent time together amongst their friends; a worry of how others might judge their closeness, a touch or a look they shared without thinking, and ask questions she still wasn’t sure she was ready to answer yet.

As soon as they’d arrived Deianeira had stripped down to just her scant underclothes and raced into the shallow waves, leaving Evandre a little dazed on the sand until the older woman called out to her to join and most of her own clothing swiftly joined the pile Deianeira had left. They’d swam amongst the coral trailing the brightly coloured fish, encountered a very disgruntled turtle who was none too happy about sharing his territory with the two women and Evandre had even persuaded Deianeira to give cliff diving a go.

As soon as Evandre had noticed that her solo adventures as a girl were no longer being closely supervised by a Royal Guard she had got a little giddy on the idea that she could quite literally try anything she wanted on the island without first gaining her mothers’ permission. The first of these slightly reckless activities was leaping off the cliffside into the ocean below. This grew to Evandre making ever more elaborate acrobatic dives and seeking out greater heights, until her injury from attempting to leap off a moving horse whilst using a bow had finally tempered her actions with a little more caution. Telling Deianeira these stories of her youth seemed not to be as great an incentive as Evandre hoped and it took tugging Deianeira by the arm, interspersed with kisses, to get the older amazon to even the lowest of Evandre’s old diving spots and convince her to jump off.

They leapt hand in hand, Deianeira screaming all the way down until she hit the water.

Now they are sprawled across a blanket Evandre had spread out on the sand, both still in only the underclothes they had swam in that have already dried in the afternoon heat. Deianeira lays on her back with her eyes closed and beside her Evandre props herself up on one elbow and watches Deianeira’s stomach rise and fall, fascinated by the light catching in the crystal grains of sand on the other woman’s dark skin.

Without opening her eyes Deianeira asks softly, “why are we here Artist?”

“You don’t like it?”

Opening her eyes and shielding them with a hand Deianeira gets a clear look at the disappointment blossoming on Evandre’s features. She takes Evandre’s hand in her free one and gives the younger woman’s fingers a squeeze of reassurance. “With such beautiful things to see how could I not like it here?” It takes a moment for Evandre to realise the other woman means her and then her face flushes pink making Deianeira chuckle. Turning serious she continues gently, “but it feels like we’re hiding.”

While Deianeira waits for Evandre to find the words for whatever is tumbling through her head she rolls on to her side, laying Evandre’s palm to the blanket with hers on top. The young amazon’s lips part occasionally as though she’s almost ready to speak but she continues to struggle to find some way to explain her uncertainties over others knowing about their relationship, while at the same time feeling like she might burst unless she shouts from the rooftops that she loves this woman next to her, even if she’s not even whispered such a thing to Deianeira yet.

“What if things change?”

“Everything changes, even on Themyscira. It’s why we were created, to bring change into the world and the hearts of others.”

Evandre has to stop herself from saying ‘but I’m not like you’. Despite how many times her family and friends have told her otherwise over the years, that small doubt that she is not quite amazon, not quite enough, lingers. On good days it is drowned out by the love of her mothers and the pride her aunts have in her. An Amazon Princess, with strength and skills to match any woman on the island. On bad days she’s nothing more than a foundling child brought to the island out of pity, with no real place here.

Instead she whispers, “I don’t want it to.”

“You really believe your friends and mine have not figured out something is happening between us? They are not blind, Evandre.”

The younger woman bites at her bottom lip, her fretting both adorable and disheartening at the same time. There is nothing for Deianeira to do but break the news to Evandre, “And I am almost certain Shirin saw us kissing in her kitchen two days ago.”

Groaning and falling onto her back Evandre throws an arm over her eyes. Deianeira lifts it away and presses her lips to Evandre’s forehead before drawing away. “You cannot live your life afraid of everything you do not know.”

“I’m not afraid of everything I don’t know.”

Evandre pulls herself back onto her side and then continues with the momentum, practically throwing herself on top of Deianeira and surprising the older woman as she is pressed down into the soft ground beneath the blanket by a fierce kiss. Evandre grasps for Deianeira’s wrists and brings their arms up above the other amazon’s head before ducking down to trail her lips along Deianeira’s exposed neck, earning a satisfied moan for her efforts.

Deianeira would be happy to let the kissing continue, their fingers locked together in the sand above their heads, until she feels Evandre’s weight shift and the younger woman’s hips pressing into her; at that point she easily breaks Evandre’s hold. Placing her hands either side of the young woman’s face she lifts Evandre’s head from her throat, noting the dark pupils drowning out the blue of her eyes. Her thumb brushes aside a few wisps of fine blonde hair, the small touch bringing Evandre’s focus back a little. Once she thinks Evandre can hear her Deianeira states clearly, “No. Not here.”

The young woman gives a rather pitiful whine, unconsciously pressing forward again with her hips as she leans in for another kiss. But Deianeira is stronger and holds her partner steady.

“But it’s romantic,” Evandre pleads.

Deianeira only laughs lightly at that, pulling Evandre down to her but clearly not in the way Evandre had been wanting a moment ago. Message received her artist lays limp on top of her, one hot cheek searing against Deianeira’s exposed skin and her breathing slowing as Deianeira runs her fingers through the tangle of golden hair.

“It is not romantic to find sand for days in places sand should not be.”

Relenting Evandre slides most of her weight off Deianeira but keeps an arm and a leg wrapped around her, burying her face against the other woman’s upper arm. Deianeira feels something mumbled against her before Evandre lifts herself to her knees and starts over, nerves causing the words to spill from her in a rush.

“You don’t have to stay at Shirin’s tonight. What I mean is, you could stay with me instead. At Otrera’s. She won’t be there. There’s some military exercise Antiope has come up with. In the mountains. That’s where Otrera is. And she said I can stay at hers. And I was welcome to have guests. You don’t have to of course, just…”

Deianeira has a finger pressed against Evandre’s lips to stop any more talking. “I would love to spend the night with you.”

It’s amusing to see how easily Deianeira’s words can bring a blush to Evandre’s cheeks, the woman who was practically humping her leg a few minutes ago. Deianeira rises from her knees pulling Evandre along with her, “Come on Artist, I think we have time for another swim before we leave. And you could do with a little cooling off.”

A while later they gather their clothes and roll up the blanket to head back to the city. The hike isn’t demanding and they spend it strolling hand in hand until they reach the perimeter wall and then Evandre’s worries get the best of her and she releases her hold. Feeling guilty she risks a glance at Deianeira’s reaction and thankfully the older woman does not seem to be mad or disappointed in her.

The route to Otrera’s home leads them through the main square, passing by Marpesia’s kitchen. It’s much the same as the other buildings in this area of the Capitol, white washed grey stone with vines creeping up the walls, but Evandre cannot remember a time when Marpesia’s doors were ever closed. A few benches, tables and chairs are scattered in front of the house, close enough that the cook can always shout from her kitchen table to join in any conversation going on outside as she prepares dishes. As Evandre and Deianeira get closer the aroma of lamb and spices coming from the spit Marpesia is turning over a fire proves too tempting for the women to ignore and they decide to stop.

Before Evandre can poke her head around the kitchen door Marpesia is already calling out a welcome and telling her to take a seat. There are empty places beside Aineppe and two other blacksmiths whose faces Evandre recognises but names she does not recall, and when she and Deianeira pause to decide where to sit Aineppe waves them over.

The blacksmiths are pleasant company during their meal and for most of it Deianeira is in deep conversation with one of the women who specializes as a farrier. Evandre has to keep sliding the small meze plates across to her partner, adding a slight nudge of her elbow to remind Deianeira to pause and eat. Aineppe and the other woman discuss the new forging techniques their latest sword designs will require and Evandre follows along, certainly interested by the subject, but finds her attention drifting to watching Deianeira in passionate debate.

By the time they all finish eating and say their goodbyes Evandre has still not learnt the other two amazons’ names, instead nodding and smiling and hoping desperately she won’t get caught out by her lack of courtesy. 

The two women take a longer route through the streets to let their meal settle so it is almost dark as they reach Otrera’s apartment, Evandre leading the way up the stone steps outside of the building to the floor above the bakery. The place is not overly spacious but doesn’t feel confining, mostly helped by the three shuttered doorways off the living area leading onto a small balcony that flood the space with sunlight in the daytime and cool air in the evenings. The apartment is made up of a simple kitchen, the living area (where Otrera seems to have abandoned what armour she did not need haphazardly around the place) and a single washroom and bedroom. Whenever Evandre has stayed in the past Otrera would set up a cot in the living area though most times they would both fell asleep on Otrera’s bed after talking late into the night, not before many attempts to close their eyes to sleep that are thwarted by one of them whispering in the dark and making the other laugh.

When Otrera had told Evandre to take the bedroom while she was away the young amazon had thought nothing of it. As she leads Deianeira across to its door now she has a feeling whatever happens tonight may change her feelings about sharing the room again with her friend. She and Deianeira are already kissing by the time they stumble through the doorway and Evandre doesn’t even notice the bed until she backs up into it, causing them both to tumble.

After untangling themselves Deianeira’s right hand remains pinned beneath Evandre’s hip, the other brushes down the girl’s bare arm before sliding to the small of her back and coming to rest there. Evandre’s hands seem not to be under her control at all as they flutter uncertainly between their bodies lying face to face on the mattress. Finally she brings them to rest against Deianeira’s stomach, just her fingertips pressing against skin.

Evandre so desperately wants to get everything that happens next right. The young amazon’s heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s crawling up her throat and she has to swallow hard before she can say, “You were my first kiss.”

Deianeira’s eyes are soft and so are her lips as she presses them lightly to Evandre’s. Nothing more. “I know.”

After finding out Evandre’s identity the older amazon had seen their kiss on the day they met in an entirely new light and had quickly come to realise the explanation for her artist’s mix of eagerness, hesitance and confusion.

“We take this slow and together.”

When they finally lie in each other’s arms content to sleep the sun is already climbing the sky. Deianeira has retrieved a cotton sheet from the floor to drape over them both, knowing the sweat glistening on their overheated flesh will cool before they wake but for now Evandre is reluctant to cover up, her long legs exposed with one thrown over Deianeira and only some of the sheet draped across her middle barely up to her breasts. The artist’s right arm is across Deianeira’s waist pulling them close together while the other is curled above Evandre’s head. The young woman’s nose is pressed close to Deianeira’s ear and she can already hear her lover’s rapid breathing evening out as exhaustion overtakes her, but before either of them fall to Morpheus she hears, “I love you.”

Deianeira turns her head against the pillow, smiling at Evandre’s hopeful gaze. “And I love you.” Evandre gives her a sleepy blissful grin, blinking slowly as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

“Go to sleep Artist. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

In the end they wake late. Very late. There’s a scramble to retrieve clothing that has been scattered about the bedroom while Evandre mutters about having to endure Iole’s ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face for the rest of the day. However at Deianeira’s suggestion Evandre go straight to the artist’s studio while she make her own way to the stables to start the journey home Evandre looks stricken.

Despite their rush Deianeira is determined to catch Evandre in a kiss before they leave the apartment, knowing the younger woman has had no chance to process yesterday’s conversation about the continued secrecy of their relationship and will also feel a little overwhelmed by last night’s (and this morning’s) activities. They would take things slow and together just as she promised her artist and Deianeira is certain Evandre will only need a little time to catch up; though it is hard to say their goodbyes at the stables as though they are merely friends parting.

Back home in Abila Deianeira finds no reason to deny the giddy effects of a new love, happy to share accounts of their days together, stories of Evandre’s many romantic gestures and hints of their nights after the first at Otrera’s; though all without revealing exactly who her artist is. Since the festival her friends had mercilessly teased her whenever she set out on a return visit to the Capitol and those who had not met Evandre were eager to coax all the details they could from Cynna, Marpe and Pharetre. If Pharetre had any awareness of Evandre’s identity from their meeting in the market place with the royal party nearby she shared it with no one, not even Deianeira. 

And though Evandre may continue to tell herself no one in her social circle knows about the pair of them Deianeira is not quite so naive. In the visits she makes over the following few weeks they spend what nights together they can with Evandre sneaking from Deianeira’s bed before sunrise. The smirk on Shirin’s face over the breakfast table alone tells Deianeira they have no one fooled. While the wait for Evandre to feel settled and comfortable enough to share what they have with others is long, Deianeira knows that it will be worth it when they can stay in bed together long after the sunrise, hold hands as they walk through the streets, kiss goodbye without looking over a shoulder and maybe one day not have to say goodbye to each other at all. 

For Evandre every time Deianeira returns to Abila her day to day life seems to go back to as it was before she’d met the other woman, only now those routines are weighed down by her pining and it is a struggle to find any joy in things if she isn’t sharing them with Deianeira. Right now she is doing her best to show interest in the conversations going on around the dinner table in an effort to not get an elbow in the ribs from Diana again.

Her mothers, Diana, Antiope and Menalippe are joined tonight by Epione, Artemis and Senator Timandra and her wife Nushaba; all the women sat in the dining room barring herself and Diana are elders of the Amazon nation, the first from the waters. It was rare that as a child Evandre was allowed to stay up late at these dinners, usually having to eat an early meal and get tucked into bed before the women met. Often she would sneak out of bed and listen at the door to their conversations, debates and playful arguments, staying as quiet as possible and hoping her Papa wouldn’t catch her out of her room. Even at her age now it always felt like an honour to be allowed to join them; though tonight Evandre is preoccupied thinking about Deianeira returning in three days’ time and just how painfully slow those days and hours will pass. 

This time it’s not a nudge and a nod of Diana’s head towards their mother that brings Evandre’s attention back to the table but Nushaba laughing hard at Hippolyta’s story of Timandra falling asleep during some petition to the senate.

“Given how boring most Senators are, present company excluded of course,” Antiope gives Timandra her modest smile, just the corners of her mouth twitching, that never fails to win over her close friends, “I am not surprised you fell asleep.”

Artemis raises her cup in agreement, causing Hippolyta to roll her eyes at both of them. Philippus wisely doesn’t join the gesture but does give a grin for only her sister-in-law to see, which is quickly hidden behind her own cup when her wife looks their way. Diana and Menalippe also remain quiet but anyone who has had the occasion to share the chambers with them knows both get restless having to stand or sit through long debates.

“Evandre, surely you do not agree with them.” Timandra sits on the opposite side of the table and sends the girl a sweet smile. “I remember well you sitting happily on your mother’s lap for many hours on the Senate floor as a child. Perhaps you can yet be saved from the life of a warrior.”

Sitting at the head of their table with Evandre the furthest away from her, Hippolyta responds to Timandra before her daughter has a chance to deflect the comment. To Evandre it is as though everyone else in the room between them disappears and she is nothing but a small child being lectured by her mother. “Evandre’s apprenticeship comes to an end in a few weeks. I spoke briefly with Iole a few days ago and she informed me my daughter has yet to decide if she will continue in her education with another artist or if she has another field in mind.”

Evandre knows her mother means it as a question for her to answer but just shrugs hoping Hippolyta will drop the subject. Beside her Diana sighs so the younger amazon assumes it was the wrong response. Only now she’s a little afraid to look back up the table at her Mama, instead giving a quick glance to Menalippe opposite her to judge just how much trouble she might be getting herself into. Menalippe’s brow is creased and her dark eyes full of sympathy so Evandre is certainly heading towards quite a bit of trouble. 

Dropping any pretence of simply pleasant conversation with her friend and colleague Hippolyta directly addresses her daughter, “You need to make some decisions soon Evandre. What you want to do with your life, where you will live.”

Hippolyta’s words certainly aren’t harsh and she has no wish to shame her daughter amongst tonight’s company but Evandre bristles anyway. Why does her mother keep having to ask these questions, why must she be so unfair. 

Evandre looks to her Papa for help but Philippus only agrees with Hippolyta, “You’re no longer a child, Evandre and your mother is right.”

Happy to insert herself into the fray Antiope speaks up, “There will always be a place in my army for you, if you wish to follow Diana’s example.” Antiope’s well-chosen words are as ever intended as a little bit of a dig to loosen up Hippolyta and it does get the expected exasperated sigh from her sister and eases some of the tension in the room.

Following her wife’s lead Menalippe thinks it’s time to step in to help Evandre with some diversionary tactics, easily leading the conversation from Antiope’s comment to Diana’s first time leading her own troops in the General’s recent mountain exercise. Diana and Antiope excitedly take over the retelling, her wife’s pride in their eldest niece obvious. Though when they regale the group with the story of a bear attacking the camp grounds Menalippe cannot quite hide the snort of amusement she lets out.

Hippolyta is of course quick to pick up on Menalippe’s slip, she has a knack for seeing when Menalippe is likely covering for something amusing and possibly embarrassing about her sister.

“Something you wish to share Menalippe?”

Menalippe clears her throat. “Oh while I am sure your daughter and sister, greatest among our warriors, would fiercely fend off a bear, there was no bear.”

“You did not hear it,” Diana protests.

Menalippe shakes her head, “That was Penthesilea and Egeria hiding in the bushes, having fun with you both.”

While Antiope sputters threats of punishment drills Philippus and Artemis completely fall apart laughing. Once they all calm Hippolyta outright forbids any punishment drills.

After dinner the women move out to the courtyard, settling into smaller groups around the fire pit. Evandre sits a little further apart from the others, alone until Menalippe comes to sit with her. Their chairs are close enough that Evandre can lean over and rest her head on her aunt’s shoulder and Menalippe immediately wraps an arm around her, fingers catching in the blonde hair and kneading her scalp. During her adolescence there were times when Evandre was as unapproachable as a hissing wounded cat, though underneath it was still the little girl who melted into an affection seeking kitten at the touch of a hand. Frankly the family had thought that as Evandre grew into the young woman she is now those tumultuous days were behind them but recently the petulant and moody girl seemed to be making a reappearance. And Menalippe at least had noted those times coincided with whenever a certain horsewoman left the Capitol. 

Evandre seems to have no fight left in her tonight though, practically curling into a ball on the chair with her feet tucked in beneath her and resting heavily against Menalippe’s shoulder. Quietly enough so no one else can overhear she murmurs, “When Diana was my age she left to fight a War, and a God. She saved the world of men. How do I compete with that?”

“It is not a contest Evandre. We only want you to be happy.” She lifts Evandre’s chin a little to see her tear filled eyes. “And you do not seem happy.”

There’s little Menalippe could ever do to help Evandre navigate her mothers’ expectations but for now she only wants to pull Evandre into her lap as she did as a girl, press her lips to Evandre’s forehead and tell her she knows about Deianeira and that is not a burden to be carried but a blessing. After the festival Menalippe had pressed Otrera at the earliest opportunity for information on the mysterious amazon in her niece’s life and had since been both surprised and pleased by the archer’s restraint in dealing with her young friend. She had also managed to keep Antiope from trailing Evandre and Deianeira through the city, not imagining that would help end their niece’s reluctance to speak about this new relationship. All her reconnaissance tells Menalippe that this woman makes Evandre happy when they are together and miserable when they are not. For now she can only wait for Evandre to follow Hippolyta’s advice for once and start to make some decisions. 

For the next two days Evandre finds any excuse she can to remain hidden away in the art studio and when not painting avoids the palace and Otrera’s home, instead sleeping at Aella’s where she knows she will be left in peace to wallow in her own self-pity. On the day that Deianeira had promised to return Evandre wakes with her mood already lifted, even though she will not be meeting her lover until the afternoon. The euphoria is somewhat short lived when she finds Diana waiting at the studio door for her but won over by the smell of breakfast pastries coming from a cloth bag in her sister’s hand she allows Diana to follow her inside. Even a lecture from her older sibling would be worth it if that bag has some of Larina’s bougatsa inside.

Luckily there is no lecture, merely an invite to join Diana and a group of friends attending a new play at the amphitheatre tonight. While Evandre tries to work out how to casually get an invite for Deianeira as well, or explain how she would even know the other woman will be in the city later, Diana sits across the workbench studying her sister. 

“If there was something wrong you would tell me?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Evandre dismisses and certainly when Deianeira is due back she is not telling Diana a complete lie.

“Mother did not mean to upset you.” Now Evandre has a suspicious feeling that the pastries had been delivered at her Mama’s urging which makes her feel a little irritated. “Come have dinner with us tomorrow.”

Evandre can’t help but smile at her sister, ever the peacemaker. 

“I’ll come.”

Diana’s smile in return lights up her face. 

“To the play. I will think about dinner.”

Of course that only turns her sister’s smile to a smirk as she knows full well Evandre will end up coming to dinner. Evandre snatches the last Bougatsa out of Diana’s hand, tearing off half the pastry in one bite before the older amazon can object. Immensely satisfied with the exaggerated glare she is now getting Evandre offers what remains back to her sister. 

Once Diana has it back and is taking her own much smaller bites and Evandre has swallowed, the younger woman mentions as casually as she can, “Oh Deianeira may be back in town tonight, I heard Celaeno talking about them showing some new horses to Antiope today.”

Diana brushes the powdered sugar off her hands. “Well if you see her, ask her to join us.” She gathers Evandre into a hug and kisses the top of her little sister’s head as she squirms. “I’ll see you tonight. Do not be late.”

Of course Evandre does see Deianeira, riding out to the stables in the afternoon to meet her as she finishes displaying horses. Unnoticed in the stands Evandre can see Antiope and Artemis observing the demonstration; well Artemis is, her aunt Antiope seems to be watching Deianeira more than the stallion currently in the arena. Before Evandre can spend any time thinking about that though Deianeira is leading the horse out of the show ground and toward the main block of stables. 

Sneaking around one of the utility buildings Evandre goes unnoticed approaching the stable and catches Deianeira around the waist once she has finished tying up the horse, swinging them both back into the stable. She doesn’t keep the upper hand for long as Deianeira spins them again pinning Evandre to the wooden boards of the stable wall and then pressing in for a deep kiss. 

While Evandre would happily like to test Deianeira on whether straw would be as ‘unromantic’ as sand she tells her partner of the evening plans they have been invited to and Deianeira enthusiastically agrees. 

They meet Diana at the amphitheatre sat waiting on a low wall beside the entrance with Trigona, Otrera and Egeria. Evandre was careful to make sure they weren’t late but that effort is in vain as they all have to wait a little longer for Penthesilea and Venelia to arrive. As they mill about Deianeira enjoys the company of Evandre’s friends, especially hearing Trigona call her artist ‘Little Princess’ which is just too adorable. She would have thought the name would make Evandre blush as she is prone to do but it seems to be one she is used to, at least from Trigona. 

As they all shuffle to take seats on the stone benches Deianeira keeps Evandre close to her side and when they sit on the laid out cushions their thighs press together. When the show starts the murmuring of the other women is almost as entertaining as the play. Penthesilea is greatly enjoying the fight scenes, swaying appreciatively with every blow and nudging into Diana and Egeria either side of her. Otrera seems to be trying to drive Trigona mad by whispering any mistakes in the choreographed fights and the incorrect grips the actors have on their weapons. Surprisingly it is Venelia who is most captivated by the romantic scenes, who Deianeira had assumed from the stories of the other women was more interested in the conquest and excitement of brief affairs than romance. Even with all the amusing distractions of their companions and the performance before them Deianeira notices that Evandre’s mind seems to be elsewhere, that something she has yet to mention must be troubling her. 

When the play ends the other women announce they are heading to Egeria’s but Evandre offers to walk Deianeira back to Shirin’s and they both bid everyone goodnight. When they had stopped at Shirin’s home for Deianeira to drop off her bag the healer had told Deianeira she would be back late that night and then out again at day break. With no subtly at all, knowing Evandre waited outside the house, Shirin told Deianeira there would be no need for her to get up early.

Once they are in Shirin’s spare room, sat on the bed together with their backs to the wall and legs stretched out, Deianeira decides it is time to dig into what is troubling her artist. The words spill easily from Evandre and as she gets further into her account, protesting her mothers’ demands over dinner a few nights ago (and all the times previously the same things have been asked of her) the young woman rises and starts pacing the length of the bed and back. 

Deianeira is wise enough to recognise she is only hearing one side of the story and what she knows of Hippolyta and Philippus, mostly from Evandre herself, tells her Evandre is being a little melodramatic. And the idea that Evandre should start making some definitive choices in her life is something Deianeira agrees with, telling her partner as such. 

Evandre stops pacing immediately. “But you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side my love, always.” Getting to her knees on the bed Deianeira reaches over to take Evandre by the waist. “That does not make them wrong.”

She can see Evandre’s frustrations getting the best of her, the red in her face isn’t from blushing this time but anger. Even with just her hands laid on Evandre’s hips Deianeira can feel the tension in the younger amazon’s body, like a cornered animal ready to lash out. “Of course you’d agree with them. Because I’m only a child. A child who needs to be told what to do.”

Taking a deep breath Deianeira tries not to let her irritation at Evandre’s petulant display come through in her voice as she tells her, “I am not going to mother you Evandre, you already have two.” 

She does not want this argument. Certainly does not want to have to tell Evandre she needs to grow up but Deianeira is starting to feel like this is the only way this conversation is heading if they continue. She sighs, “Maybe you should go home to them.”

It takes a moment of silence between them for Evandre to realise Deianeira means it. She takes a shaky step back, pauses for another moment and then quickly turns and leaves the room and the house before either of them can change their mind. Deianeira slumps down, legs still under her, starring dazed at the door. For the second time she has told Evandre to go. 

Deianeira’s not sure exactly when but at some point she lies back down on the bed. She hears Shirin creeping in trying not to disturb the couple who are pretending they aren’t a couple and bitterly Deianeira thinks she should call out to Shirin to tell her there is no need anymore. When her lips part, to say that or something else she doesn’t know, a sob comes out instead and the tears start. Pulling the blanket tighter around her Deianeira wipes at her eyes and then buries her head in the pillow.

Evandre’s tears were dried by her mama. After promising everything would be alright in the morning and permitting Evandre to stay the night with them Hippolyta went to their daughter’s old room to fetch something for the girl to change in to, leaving her at the end of the bed in Philippus’ arms. Once she was back and Evandre had slipped on the night shirt she clung to her mother. Philippus climbed into her side of the bed waiting for Evandre to take the lead in where she might sleep but the girl just seemed lost. Hippolyta got in next to her wife, propping herself up against the headboard and leaving space for Evandre at the edge of the bed. Moving quickly Evandre moved to press against her mother, arm snaked around her waist and her head against Hippolyta’s stomach then the tears started again. 

As she comforted Evandre, Hippolyta whispered to Philippus, “sleep my love. She will cry herself out soon.” It wasn’t until the sobs finally eased as exhaustion overtook their daughter that Philippus relaxed beside her and laid her head against the pillow. But even once Evandre joined her Papa in sleep it was a fitful one, which didn’t make three grown women trying to share the one bed any easier and Hippolyta lay awake far longer murmuring soothing nonsense to Evandre whenever she started to twitch or moan.

Evandre hadn’t said or been able to say any more about what happened with this woman after her confession that they had argued. Her daughters may think Hippolyta only knows everything that happens in the palace but she also knows everything that happens in her city. Every face of every amazon that walks her streets. Especially those faces that in the last few months have appeared far more often than in all the years they have been on Themyscira. Hippolyta was well aware that the horsewoman from Abila had been staying with one of Epione’s healers, Shirin. And that Evandre had been seen spending a lot of time in her company and at the healer’s apartments.

Hippolyta had not failed to note the irony in seeing so clearly the love growing in her daughter’s eyes of late when she had for years been unable to see Philippus’ clear affections for her. Her wife meanwhile had been flatly refusing to acknowledge any such thing. While Hippolyta had already watched one daughter grow and leave her nest Evandre was Philippus’ only baby and she was holding on tight to their little girl. As both her wife and baby now settled into matching rhythms of deep and even breathing Hippolyta let herself drift off to join them.

When Evandre wakes she is alone in a large bed. Rolling away from the light breaking through the shuttered window she’s facing the young woman realises exactly which large bed she is in, seeing across the room her mother is sat at her desk, studying parchments. Evandre feels stupid and childish; not just for waking in her parent’s bed but for the things she said to Deianeira. For the things she hasn’t said to anyone else. 

“Mama.” Evandre’s voice is a little rough from the crying last night but Hippolyta hears her and turns in her chair.

Pushed up on one elbow the blankets have fallen away from Evandre, her hair is as untidy a mess as Hippolyta has ever seen it, blue eyes wide and earnest. Looking at her now Hippolyta can see so many ways Evandre is just the same as when she was a child, and at the same time all the ways she has changed. 

“I’m with someone. Deianeira. You met her at the festival.”

Hippolyta turns back to her papers to hide what could turn into a laugh. As she stands and walks across the room to Evandre she smothers the grin to a gentle smile.

“I remember her.” Hippolyta sits on the bed in front of Evandre who falls back to her hip then pulls herself up to sit, dragging the blankets into her lap where her hands stay fiddling with the edges. 

“And I already knew.”

Evandre looks up from her hands, a little anxious. “Does Papa know?”

“She is pretending not to.”

Evandre nods her head, keeps nodding with her eyes dropping back to her lap. “I love her. And now she’s mad at me. I kept asking her to keep us a secret and I shouldn’t have. She should be mad at me.”

“I think she’ll forgive you.”

“What do I do?”

“First go wash” Hippolyta reaches out to wipe at the dried tear stains on her daughter’s cheeks. “Then tell her you are sorry you hurt her and you will try to do better. It is all I have ever been able to offer your Papa and she has always forgiven me.”

Evandre scrabbles from under the bedding to grab Hippolyta in a fierce hug. While she holds her mother Evandre is already shuffling off the bed, letting go once her feet touch the floor. Then she is almost running to the door, confident she can set things right. Before she leaves the room Hippolyta calls out, “And when she has accepted your apology tell her she is invited to dinner with us tonight.”

Over her shoulder Evandre shouts back, “Yes Mama.”


	6. All That Comes After

Careful to avoid getting any of the ink that stains her fingers onto the parchment Evandre shuffles the finished papers into a neat stack. The giddy satisfaction of laying the completed work back on her desk is almost immediately drowned out by the exhaustion she’d been fighting for hours. Arching her back and stretching out her arms to roll her shoulders brings a fleeting burst of energy before she slumps back in the chair. She’s too drained to even lean over and blow out the flame on the lamp, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palms to try to rid the burning sensation of tiredness aggravated by the orange and pink light of sunrise through the un-shuttered window.

Aside from the neat and tidy council proposal set just in front of her the rest of the table top is a mess, which is Evandre’s usual standard for working much to the dismay of all her tutors when she was younger and Iole when she apprenticed for the artist. Her mother would certainly not approve of the scrolls and parchments of council and senate business strewn haphazardly across her desk but Evandre has always found a little chaos helps with her creative processes. Her research for the resources and labour that would be required to repair some of Themyscira’s road networks might seem a world away from sketches and colour samples but she is as proud of this work as she is of any of her paintings.

There’s very little noise from outside still, a few song birds starting their morning chorus, so it is easy for Evandre to hear a door quietly creaking open behind her. This house has a lot of old noises and she’s only just beginning to feel like she knows them all or is at least familiar with them. This particular creaking she is certain of, it’s their bedroom door. When she’d first visited Deianeira’s home the door had been plain mismatched planks of unfinished wood, Evandre had since decorated the side facing out into the living area with delicate painted vines and bursts of violet flowers. It does however still sound the same, the hinges giving a low groan whenever used and Deianeira refuses to let her oil it saying she likes the sounds her home makes. Their home.

Evandre rolls her head to see Deianeira in the open doorway yawning and pushing her hair back from her face to tie it up. The corner of the other woman’s mouth curls up in a little smile when she spots Evandre at her desk, not surprised to find the younger amazon there and probably not even surprised to roll over as she woke and discover Evandre was not beside her. Since the move from the city Evandre frequently found herself waking before dawn; most mornings she would simply lie beside Deianeira and watch her sleep as the shadows night cast across her face faded away and the morning light caught in the hazy air and sparkled like starlight around her. But there were some days when Evandre did feel motivated enough to drag herself away from Deianeira, always finding her way to her desk with work or drawing.

Unlike Hippolyta’s throne-like chair at her own desk with its high back, Evandre’s is regular seat that allows Deianeira to stand behind her and wrap her arms over Evandre’s shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle at her neck. “Did you get up early or have you been here all night?” 

Deianeira had left her partner last night sat in pretty much the same spot, telling her not to stay up too long. A little guiltily Evandre mumbles about the work getting finished and nods towards the stack of papers that shows she obviously did not follow the older woman to bed. Deianeira gives a groan, a little rumble of disapproval that vibrates against Evandre’s neck and the younger amazon knows she will have to make up for the absence, even if Deianeira was so exhausted herself she didn’t even stir to notice Evandre missing from their bed. 

Deianeira straightens up letting go of Evandre’s neck, then she leans over Evandre, belly pressing into the blonde’s shoulders causing her to lean forward herself to allow Deianeira to grab the stack of papers. Once Deianeira has them and steps back, freeing the younger woman from being pinned against her desk, Evandre stands and stretches out her stiff legs. She wanders to the kitchen area to get a drink and snatch up the last piece of bread from the counter while Deianeira leafs through the pages. Chewing on the slightly stale chunk Evandre makes a mental note to get another loaf from town before their guests arrive later. Living together has revealed a lot about each other and one thing they know for certain is neither of them are good bakers. 

Finished reading Deianeira returns the proposal to the desk, absently straightening some of the other papers as she does so. “It’s good. When do you present it to the council?”

“Tomorrow. Anaea wants it ready to go before the Senate by the end of the month.”

Deianeira’s arms encircles Evandre’s hips, pulling her away from leaning against one of the cupboards and pressing their bodies tight together. Their lips touch briefly then Deianeira hovers barely a breath of distance from Evandre, eyes still closed and the tip of her tongue running over her top lip. “Good work Artist.”

“That’s Councilwoman to you.”

“Oh really?” Deianeira refuses Evandre’s attempt to go in for a longer kiss, unlocking her fingers and then playfully giving her partner a gentle shove back toward her desk. “Well, Councilwoman, if you can plan all this for the restoration of the road to the Capitol then I expect you can certainly repair the porch roof before your mothers arrive.”

“Hmm. I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Deianeira raises an eyebrow, willing to play along for now. “I would have to thoroughly assess the problem, research the correct materials and suitable labour. That is going to take some time. And even after that it could easily get caught up in committee.”

Both eyebrows are raised now and Deianeira’s mouth is screwed up undecided between amusement and frustration. “Well you can assess the porch by sleeping out under it. Alone. Until it is out of committee.”

“I’ll do it this afternoon.”

Evandre knows she has definitely given the correct response when it’s accepted with a kiss and a laugh. She settles back at her desk, feeling revitalised enough to give her work one more read through. Deianeira kisses the top of her head, one hand against Evandre’s neck. “Get some sleep first.”

Deianeira gives Evandre’s shoulder a squeeze before she moves to leave, grabbing her satchel and slinging its strap over her head before she pauses with her hand on the door, waiting for a promise from Evandre that she will do as she’s told. 

“Sleep. Porch. Got it.”

Evandre does keep her word. She barely even makes it through half the document before the words scratched in ink become too blurry to read and instead retreats to the bedroom for a few hours’ sleep. Stripping down and crawling under the sheets she finds the bed still warm from Deianeira and it feels odd not to have her lying there beside her. Less than a year ago Deianeira had sent her away after their first real fight and she’d had to spend the night crying in her Mama’s arms instead but since then neither woman had found themselves banished from the bedroom by the other. There had been disagreements of course but nothing that was not settled before day’s end; reconciliation came mostly as they lay in each other’s arms whispering apologies and promises to each other in the dark, other times anger and frustrations still lingered after words and they’d found only wearing each other out physically helped them move past an argument. The bedroom door had proved particularly sturdy on a couple of occasions when Deianeira had been thrown against it, legs wrapped tight around Evandre’s waist and mouth busy at her neck.

But making peace following that first argument hadn’t been either of those methods. The morning after Deianeira had sent Evandre back home to her parents they had sat next to each other on the end of the bed in Shirin’s guest room, Evandre staring at her fidgeting hands and Deianeira’s gaze fixed on a notch in the wall opposite. When Evandre had returned to talk with Deianeira and knocked at the door, Shirin had assumed the charade of them not being a couple was still ongoing and the princess must have slipped out earlier in the morning. One look at Evandre’s face told her otherwise; as did Deianeira’s when Shirin called and her friend emerged from the bedroom to find Evandre on the doorstep.

The words had been hard to find on both their parts but eventually Evandre stumbled through her mother’s advice, apologising for hurting Deianeira and promising she could and would do better. Forgiveness came a lot easier, Deianeira taking Evandre’s hand from her lap, kissing the knuckles until Evandre looked up and was able to meet her eyes. “I will never send you away again, I promise.”

Tentatively Evandre whispered, “Slow and together?”

Deianeira grinned through the last of her tears. “Slow and together.”

During their walk through the city streets to the Palace later that evening Evandre warned Deianeira that it may be her Papa who posed the greatest challenge tonight, telling the older woman that Philippus had the patience of a thousand years and could hold a grudge for just as long. Deianeira had kissed her and smiled, full of confidence. “I can be patient too.”

After being announced by one of the Royal Guards stepping into the dining room Deianeira suddenly wondered if she had dressed well enough for the occasion but as soon as she saw Evandre’s parents and Diana were not waiting for them dressed in fine gowns or ornate armour her mind was set at ease. The other women were not yet seated but stood to one side of the table that was already set for their meal. Diana gave Deianeira a little wave before pulling Evandre into a hug, whispering something into her little sister’s ear that Deianeira did not catch; she might have been able to make out the words if she had not been thrown slightly by the Queen welcoming her with an embrace that felt like she was accepting Deianeira home. 

Philippus stood behind and when Hippolyta released the younger woman the general had simply offered Deianeira her hand in greeting, a little less enthusiastically than in the market place the first time they met. As they took their seats at the table Deianeira leaned over to Evandre and murmured, “Slow and together.” Giving the younger woman an encouraging smile and a little nudge with her shoulder despite the glowering look she was receiving from General Philippus. Honestly the intense appraisal wasn’t unexpected, she was after all the woman who had sent their daughter home to them in tears only the night before but it did indicate they may all be in for a long evening.

 

As the meal drew on it seemed impossible that Deianeira might win over Philippus in a single evening and that it would take quite some time for her to forgive the younger woman who had caused her baby pain. But as she had told Evandre, Deianeira had the patience to wait it out, simply deciding to handle the General as she would one of her unbroken horses and remain calm and confident that she could build a trust slowly between them.

Patience and calm however are not among Evandre’s strongest skills and Deianeira can feel her anxiety rising, the worried glances she shot between her Papa and Deianeira increasing and one leg bouncing a little despite Deianeira trying to calm the movement by placing a hand on her knee. During the pause between courses while Diana is sharing a story of Venelia visiting the training grounds that may be an attempt to distract Philippus from glowering down the table, Deianeira reaches for Evandre’s hand. She gives her partner’s fingers a squeeze to try to reassure her but Evandre doesn’t appear to notice. Any thoughts of impressing Evandre’s family are forgotten as Deianeira untangles their fingers to turn in her seat and reach up for Evandre’s cheek, gently guiding the younger woman to look at her. 

“It’s okay Artist. Everything is going just fine.”

“But…” Evandre’s eyes drop a little and Deianeira feels the pressure against her palm where she’s trying to turn her head towards her parents. 

Deianeira gives her a quick, entirely chaste, kiss on the lips, her thumb stroking against Evandre’s cheek. “There is nothing at all to be worried about. I promise.”

Deianeira’s words seem to not only work on Evandre but her Papa as well. When Evandre turns back to the table and fiddles with her cutlery a moment, a little self-conscious that everyone had been watching them but no longer feeling the panic rising inside her belly, Deianeira looks up to find Hippolyta and Diana both beaming at her and Philippus’ judging gaze far softer than before. 

At the end of the meal it is Philippus who says they are both welcome to stay in the Palace overnight but the couple decide to return to Shirin’s. The next morning they are still lazing in bed in each other’s arms, with Evandre thankfully covered for once, when there’s a tap on the door. Shirin ducks her head inside before they even answer, eyes scrunched closed. Only when she doesn’t get yelled at to leave does she cautiously open one eye to look at them.

“After yesterday morning I assumed we are no longer pretending to not know you’re a couple.” Shirin dives back behind the door to avoid the cushion Deianeira launces across the room at her, then once she’s done laughing peeks back round, “I have to go but I left you both some breakfast.”

“Thank you Shirin.” The healer gives Evandre a smile, knowing that the girl’s thanks are clearly not just for the food.

Deianeira has only the one more day planned in the city before she rides home in the evening so after eating and finally getting dressed they decide to take a walk together. They wander the tiers of the Capitol with no particular destination in mind, stopping to watch the waterfalls roaring over the rocks and sitting on the low walls looking out over the olive groves just beyond the city streets. At the market place Evandre eagerly drags Deianeira over to every stall with shiny objects, be it jewellery or weaponry, much to her partner’s amusement. As usual all the merchants dote on their Princess, with Evandre barely noticing how they go out of their way to show her things that make her smile and her eyes shine bright with interest. Deianeira can just imagine the little girl she’d once seen with her aunt Antiope skipping through the market place being offered sweet cakes and trinkets that no doubt her mothers would sigh over.

Walking back toward the apartment they pass by Marpesia’s kitchen where Otrera and Trigona are sat beside each other on a bench having lunch. Evandre’s steps falter a little, unsure exactly how to approach her friends but Deianeira gives her a nudge in the ribs with her elbow then starts toward them herself, easily pulling Evandre along by the hand. 

The hand holding does not go unnoticed.

“Something you’ve been meaning to tell us Little Princess?”

Otrera snorts into her closed hand at Trigona’s question, coughing around her mouthful of food while the other two women take a seat at their table. Evandre groans and rests her forehead on Deianeira’s bare shoulder. Annoyingly her partner makes her sit back up and face her friends. “You all knew?”

Once she’s stopped laughing Otrera begins a light-hearted tirade about Evandre’s idea of keeping a secret while Trigona leans her elbows on the table, holding her head in her hands and shaking it in disbelief. Of course they all knew. Evandre is used to this treatment from her two closest friends but she does enjoy it more when Deianeira gets over-protective of her, leaning in to the younger woman with one hand on her thigh and the other low on her back. 

As the three woman continue to playfully tease each other Deianeira is happy to simply sit back and listen to their banter as they clamour over each other in conversation. There are many uproarious tales of Otrera’s spectacular failures at romance and it is perhaps in an effort to not add to them that Otrera had stopped telling Evandre and Trigona the names of the women she pursues. Deianeira is also enlightened to Trigona’s unrequited passions for Venelia, Otrera goes over her well-rehearsed lines imploring Trigona to move on while Evandre as ever tells her to stay true to her love, as she herself had with Deianeira.

Not wanting to let such a good opportunity pass Otrera turns to Evandre, “But I thought I was the woman that you loved.” 

In response the younger woman narrows her eyes and hisses at her friend, “Say another word and I am never speaking to you again.” 

Deianeira's confused expression prompts Trigona to tell her of Evandre’s childhood infatuation with her fellow archer. Otrera had found out from Diana one drunken evening a number of years ago and hasn’t yet tired of bringing it up to watch Evandre squirm. 

Grumbling loudly Evandre gives both women an overdramatic glare. "I need new friends."

"Oh no,” Deianeira reaches for an olive, popping it in to Evandre’s mouth to distract her from her mock outrage. “I like these ones."

In the months that followed while Evandre finished up her apprenticeship with Iole and Deianeira continued her frequent visits their separations did not seem quite as arduous as they had been. When Evandre found herself at a loss waiting for Deianeira’s return she could always persuade Diana to keep her company; sitting with her little sister in the evenings and braiding her hair as she did when Evandre was a child Diana now indulged her by listening to endless talk about Deianeira instead of being begged to tell the girl just one more story. 

And Antiope was keen to get Evandre out to the practice grounds to keep her mind busy but Otrera begged Evandre not to take her aunt up on the offer, saying there was only so much of a day she could spend putting up with Evandre pouting over her lover. 

When Deianeira did return to the Capitol Shirin still welcomed them to stay with her but both women felt like they had taken advantage of the healer’s hospitality for far too long. Sleeping on cots or bedding down on floors with any of their other friends was not as appealing to the couple as it had been to Evandre in rebellion against her Mama so they began staying in Evandre’s rooms at the Palace more often than not, where both of Evandre’s mothers delighted in having them around. The mornings once again regularly saw the whole family sharing breakfast in the courtyard and on quiet afternoons Hippolyta would often persuade Deianeira to join her for walks through the gardens. In the evenings Philippus was beyond pleased to spend the time out on the terrace working on schedules for Guard duties with Evandre settled next to her drawing. 

Once her studies with Iole had finished Evandre was free to travel to Abila, riding out often on the full day’s journey to stay with Deianeira. This visit she had spent two days rebuilding the outer wall of Deianeira’s property while her partner went about her daily routines. Not long past noon Evandre had laid the final piece of stonework but decided the finishing coat of white paint to match the house would wait until her next stay. Instead she gathered and cleaned her tools and then collapsed in the grass under the large tree on the east side of the house which was where Deianeira found her a few of hours later. 

The older amazon had tried to persuade the utterly exhausted and aching Evandre to take a warm bath but she had barely made it through dinner and could think only of getting to bed where she fell into sleep moments after her head touched the pillow, long before the sun had even set. Much later Evandre was roused when Deianeira joined her. Sleepily taking in the darkness of the bedroom around her Evandre couldn’t see her lover climbing in beside her but felt the bed dip and rolled with it, wrapping herself around the older woman and giving a contented sigh. 

Evandre’s face nestles in the hollow of Deianeira’s neck and as the older woman speaks the sound of the words in her throat buzz against Evandre’s nose. “You should stay.”

Evandre mumbles back as her eyes close again, “I promised Papa I would be home tomorrow, have a day to prepare for the hunt. I can come back right after. Only three days.”

“No. I mean…” Deianeira isn’t usually so unsure with her words and it makes Evandre shake herself out of sleep a little more. “Your home, it should be here. With me.”

Evandre isn’t quite sure she’s hearing right. Pushing away from Deianeira she lays on her stomach on the mattress and props herself up on both her elbows. Blinking a few times her eyes grow more used to the dim room until she can make out Deianeira looking back at her full of apprehension. “I need to think about it. “ Evandre wishes she could say the words that would ease her partner’s mind but she’s not sure she is ready to just yet. “I’m sorry.”

Deianeira throws both arms around Evandre’s neck, hauling her over into a tight hug until the younger amazon is lying half on top of her. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Take all the time you need.”

For the entire ride back to the city and then a morning of sitting through her Papa and Antiope making their preparations for the hunt all Evandre can think of is Deianeira’s words the night before. When Philippus finally realises her daughter is too distracted to be of much help to her in outvoting Antiope’s suggestions she dismisses Evandre until the party is to depart in the evening, freeing Evandre to wander the gardens instead. 

Winding along the gravel pathways through the flowerbeds Evandre absently picks the heads of flowers, something she would certainly get in trouble with Myrine for if she is spotted by the head gardener. She is so preoccupied by her own thoughts she doesn’t even hear Menalippe’s approach. 

The warrior had barely greeted Antiope and Philippus, bringing with her a list of provisions from the kitchens, before they were both urging her to follow Evandre and discover what was troubling the girl. While Menalippe is not the greatest tracker in the army it is easy to trace Evandre’s steps and in no time she spots the girl up ahead kicking at the small stones on the pathway exactly as she did when she was a child and had been told she could not go and do something she particularly wanted to. 

“It’s such a nice day I thought I might join you out here instead of listening to my wife and your Papa argue over supplies.”

Evandre doesn’t even greet her causing Menalippe to sigh. There’s a stone bench by the blue hyacinths just ahead of them and Menalippe hooks her arm through her niece’s and leads her toward it. Stubbornly Evandre drags her feet, refusing to easily join Menalippe but she is no match for the older woman’s strength.

"Sit down." It is not a good sign when Menalippe sounds just like Antiope giving orders on the training grounds and Evandre hastily obeys, dropping down onto the bench and folding arms across her chest to let her aunt know she’s not happy about it. 

Of course Menalippe is completely unfazed by the behaviour, remaining standing over Evandre rather than taking a seat beside her. "None of us are prepared to go through another round of you trying to keep secrets and making yourself miserable. So talk."

There isn’t really much point in fighting so Evandre simply admits, "Deianeira asked me to stay with her. Live in Abila.”

Menalippe drops her unyielding stance but waits for the girl to finish before she offers any advice. 

“I don't know what to do. Papa won't like it, at all."

"Your Papa would follow your mother through the Gates of Erebus so she will certainly get over you moving across the island to be with the woman you love.” Menalippe sits next to Evandre, nudging her with a hip to get her to shuffle along the bench a little. “Though it may take her a while." 

They are silent a moment while Evandre considers what is really troubling her before she speaks again. When she does her question is barely louder than the buzzing of the insects in the nearby flowers. "How do I know if I am making the right choice?" 

Menalippe thinks how things had been for her and Antiope and their early life on Themyscira when Antiope would trail her home every night but be gone before dawn, a proud and wary stray cat until a day came when she simply decided not to leave. That won’t really help guide Evandre in her decision though so instead Menalippe tells her niece of the days she sat by Antiope’s bed when they struggled to hope that their greatest warrior, her love, would recover from her injuries. The only choices Menalippe regretted then were the ones that had taken her away from Antiope for a month, a day or even a moment. 

“I believe you already know what you want to do.”

Evandre doesn’t have any words but she does give a little nod of her head.

Before the hunters sets out that evening Evandre hands a note to a messenger asking for it to be delivered to Abila. She had gone through more than a dozen attempts at drafting the letter before settling on the words to send and in the end the message simply read, 

‘Deianeira,  
Please come to the Palace in two days’ time for dinner with the family.   
Then we shall return home together.   
Your Artist.’

Two days later the hunting party including Evandre, Philippus, Antiope and Menalippe ride back through the Palace gates where they find Deianeira by Hippolyta’s side awaiting their return. As attendants take the animal carcasses to the kitchens, carry off weapons and packs and lead away the horses Evandre slides from General’s back and goes straight to Deianeira. From the suspicious look her mother gives her Evandre is a little nervous that Hippolyta may already know about the letter and their plans but Deianeira greets her with a kiss and whispers against Evandre’s ear, “I was waiting for you to return before I said anything.” 

There is enough time before dinner for the returning hunters to go soak in the bathing pools and then make themselves presentable. Shortly after Deianeira had arrived in the Capitol, surprising Hippolyta and the palace staff, the Queen had informed her of the formal dinner that evening and they had spent a pleasant morning in Phoebe’s shop picking out something she might wear. As Deianeira tried different styles and fabrics the Queen had confessed that such formality in the Palace when not an official occasion was usually just an excuse for Hippolyta to force Antiope out of her soldier’s leathers and into a dress and she earned great favour with Menalippe every time she did it. 

Choosing not to tell Evandre that her mother had helped pick out the dress, Deianeira delights in distracting her partner as they get ready. Sitting before the large mirrored glass to tie back her hair she watches Evandre behind her, fingers fumbling at the buckle of her belt while she remains riveted on the expanse of dark skin that can be seen through the sheer material. Eventually Deianeira takes some pity on the artist and walks over to fasten the buckle herself, adjusting the belt until it sits comfortably just above Evandre’s hips. 

“Ready?” She is still close with her hands are still on Evandre’s hips so the blonde leans in to snatch a quick kiss. 

“We could be a little late.”

Deianeira lightly shoves Evandre away from her towards the door. “I’m not explaining that to your mothers.” 

The couple are seated at the end of the table with Menalippe and Diana between them and Antiope, Philippus and Hippolyta who are at its head. Evandre had subtlety guided the seating arrangements in the hopes that her aunt and sister could provide a little protection if the news of Evandre moving to Abila with Deianeira is not received well.

When they do make their announcement, Evandre asking for everyone’s attention only after the fourth time Deianeira kicks her beneath the table, it seems to go over reasonably well. She suspects Menalippe may have already shared the possibility of her decision with Antiope as they both readily congratulating the couple. Diana is giddy with excitement which in turn makes Evandre grin so much her cheeks hurt and Deianeira is so thankful because it distracts Evandre from looking to closely at the shimmering sadness in the eyes of both her parents. Instead Evandre is swept up by Hippolyta’s blessing and Philippus raising her cup for a toast. 

Over the course of the meal a rainstorm has risen outside so after dinner the group move to the living chambers and take up places on the couches and chairs around the fireplace. Hippolyta is about to scold Diana and Evandre as they tussle on one of the couches for a spot closest to the fire when she notices Philippus lingering behind by the dresser and fiddling with the cup in her hand instead of joining the others.

Hippolyta knows exactly what is troubling her wife, she is certainly feeling the same apprehension at losing their baby even as she is overwhelmed by pride and love for the beautiful young woman she has become. Leaving her daughters to either settle their little battle themselves or trusting that Menalippe or Deianeira will step in (Antiope will only encourage them) Hippolyta goes to Philippus. She smoothly takes the cup from her hands and places it on the sideboard then catches both of Philippus’ hands in her own. 

They regard each other a moment before Hippolyta gives her love a sad little smile. “You were the one who told me I needed to let her grow up.”

“I was wrong.” 

Now those are words Hippolyta does not hear often from her wife and she chuckles under her breath before replying, “No, you were not.”

“I meant for her to grow up where I could still watch over her. When I don’t she falls from horses. Or for women she barely knows.”

"You don't approve of Deianeira?" 

Philippus rolls her eyes, again making Hippolyta laugh. "Of course I do. She's perfect for Evandre. That does not make it any easier."

Hippolyta can’t resist leaning in and stealing a kiss. She does not get very far with it as Philippus pulls her hands away from Hippolyta’s grasp and then they are caught up in her wife’s blonde hair and drawing her closer. The kiss lasts a lot longer than Hippolyta usually feels comfortable with in company, even that of her family, but she sinks into it and they only break apart when Antiope whistles at them from the couches. Hippolyta throws a scowl over her shoulder at her sister before turning back to Philippus. 

“Come. Our daughter is starting to worry.” 

Evandre is fidgeting on the couch with Diana to her left having won the seat by the fire and Deianeira pressed close on her other side laying a hand on her thigh to still the younger woman. They take their own seats just as Menalippe is asking about the move and Evandre seems to ease with the flow of the conversation as well as her lover’s touch. 

After Philippus warns the couple that she may need some time to adjust to letting her little girl go she turns to Hippolyta. “How did you ever let Diana off the island?”

Diana has her head down and raises only her eyes to meet her mother’s. When she notices the glint of the unshed tears Hippolyta blinks away she is on her feet and by Hippolyta’s side in an instant, taking the chair next to hers and resting against her. When Menalippe suggests now they only need to find Diana someone to settle down with Hippolyta wraps her arm protectively around Diana’s shoulder and pulls her in tight. 

Both of the older women intend it to be light-hearted but Diana has always been sensitive to such things. “I imagined all Evandre and Deianeira are doing I would do with Steve. But it wasn’t meant to be.”

Hippolyta has her hand under Diana’s dark hair, fingers kneading at her neck and her daughter leans in to the touch. “Maybe it will happen again. I’m… I’m hopeful it will.” She straightens up a little, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “For now I enjoy my life and the company I keep.”

Hippolyta pulls away just enough to be able to look at Diana’s face to ask in mock seriousness, “And who might that company be at the moment?” 

“I think I need to refill my wine.” Diana could not have scrabbled from her mother’s embrace quicker, to the amusement of everyone in the room. 

Once the conversation in the room picks back up, Evandre rises from her seat without drawing too much attention and follows Diana up to the table laid out with the wine jugs and bowls of nuts and dried fruits. 

"I never said thank you.”

“For what?” Diana is genuinely confused by what Evandre might feel she should be thanking her for. 

Evandre bites a little at her bottom lip before answering, “Bringing me home.”

Mercifully Diana had set her cup on the table already as she suddenly drags Evandre into a hug. A little overwhelmed by her sister’s words she forgets her own strength until Evandre utters breathlessly, “Too tight,” and they break apart both giggling. 

It is not as though Evandre gives up on the Palace and her mothers being her home. Home just becomes bigger. A worn kitchen table and a little courtyard with lemon trees are as much a part of it now as formal dining rooms and grand terraces. And her family, her parents and sister and aunts, has grown to include the beautiful woman who holds her heart. 

She and Deianeira hadn’t really discussed or even considered what Evandre might do with her time in Abila but she could always make herself useful. With an extensive education from the finest tutors, rigorous physical training with Antiope and Hippolyta’s instance while growing up that she help the Palace attendants with daily chores Evandre could set her hand to almost anything and was happy to if it kept her with Deianeira.

The Queen of course preferred to have something more sound in place for her daughter and after some discussion with various officials she asked Evandre to step up to a Council post in Abila. Even when Evandre was a baby Hippolyta had been aware of the many differences in her two daughters and over time came to realise that it was her youngest who was more likely to follow her in governing the amazon nation. Though Evandre had struggled sometimes to give her full attention in the schoolroom with a single tutor lecturing at her she was always captivated and engaged when listening to the varied voices that filled the Senate chambers. 

Her fascination began when she was still only a baby, Hippolyta reluctantly having to take Evandre to the Senate with her when the early attempts to separate from the little girl to attend to her duties had caused far too much distress. For a short while Hippolyta had allowed the ruling of the island to be dictated by a child’s whim and simply conducted business in correspondence with the Senate whilst staying with Evandre. The first occasion her presence was truly required Hippolyta had seen no choice but to settle the baby in a sling of dark green fabric against her chest and hope she might sleep through the proceedings. Sat at her place in the chambers Hippolyta could keep one hand against Evandre’s back to sooth her while still able to shuffle through her papers as petitioners and senators took their turns speaking. And while the baby blinked sleepily throughout her head kept turning toward whoever was speaking even if she obviously did not understand what was being said.

Once the baby had settled to her new life and could bear to be parted from her mother, Hippolyta obviously thought no more of bringing her to the chambers.

"Please Mama, please let me come."

At four years old Evandre is an insistent little terror at times but has at least learnt to obey her mothers and Hippolyta finds she cannot dismiss her youngest daughter’s request out of hand. She gathers the last of her papers from the desk she will need today and slips them into the satchel before turning to Evandre.

"If I allow you to come,” the small squeal Evandre gives makes Hippolyta think the girl did not hear the ‘if’ at the beginning of her words. “You must be good and do exactly as I say. Or there will be consequences." 

Hippolyta holds her head high to be able to look down at Evandre with her best stern glare as the child promises to be good and do exactly as her Mama says. The threat that Aella will bring her home and there would be punishment for not behaving when she insisted on coming is enough for Evandre to conduct herself appropriately as they walk to the Senate building and make their way inside. 

Not wanting to leave a toddler in the gallery seating Hippolyta sets Evandre on the floor beside her chair, on a cushion she is told not to move from, and gives the girl some scraps of paper and chalks to keep her occupied.

"Mama?" The Senate has been in session for maybe an hour when there is a little tug at her skirt and Hippolyta looks down to find the chalk and paper abandoned on the floor beside the chair. "Can I sit with you? I want to see." 

Hippolyta could tell her daughter there is nothing to see and to go back to her drawing but that would only bring on more questions, bargaining, or at worst a tantrum. It is easier for Hippolyta to pick the girl up and place her on her lap until she bores and asks to be put down. Three hours later and still on her best behaviour, with only the occasional whispered enquiry or wriggle to settle herself, Evandre has not lost interest in the proceedings of the Senate floor at all.

Even as a teenager Evandre begged to be allowed to join her mother, though Hippolyta knew it was more to get out of lessons than a pure interest in what was going on in the Senate. On the occasions she did relent Evandre would sit in the gallery seats, sometimes sketching the various Senators from around the island, other times absorbed by the day’s business. Once they returned home in the evenings Philippus would quiz the girl on the roles of their institutions and policies and was often outstripped by their daughter’s growing knowledge and understanding. When retired to in the evening Philippus would grumble to Hippolyta that she would need to visit Clio in the library or have Khasa tutor her in government just to keep up with Evandre but Hippolyta could always see the pride behind the words.

In Abila Evandre mostly assists Anaea at the town’s council chambers. Her home with Deianeira is just outside of the town and on her morning walks in and her way home at the end of the day Evandre takes routes that allow her to roam a little through the streets and take the time to talk with her new neighbours, learning their names and faces just as Hippolyta knows every woman in the Capitol. 

On days when she does not have work to do with Anaea, Evandre sometimes joins Deianeira with the horses, being affectionately pestered for not really helping as she lazes under trees or perches on rocks drawing the scenes before her. Despite what she says, Deianeira does not require Evandre to do much to help and loves to watch as her fingers move over her sketchbook even if the blond is a little distracted while she tries to work. A small shelf fixed above Evandre’s desk at home holds a selection of cloth and leather bound notebooks, one of which is almost entirely filled with drawings of Deianeira in the hills. The rest contain sketches, chalk drawings and watercolours of life in Abila, the women of the small town, the white smooth rendered walls and terracotta tiled roofs of the houses and their simple temple to Artemis, rows of olive trees and deep green pastures across rolling hills bordered by forest. 

There are also more than enough projects to keep Evandre busy when she stays home. On the days Deianeira kisses her goodbye on the doorstep and tells her to stay out of trouble it is usually a hint that there is something to be done and she should make herself useful. If there is a need Evandre will slip into the forest with her bow to hunt rabbits and deer otherwise her love had also helpfully provided an seemingly endless list of repairs on the house she never managed to get around to herself. 

Their home sits on one of the hills overlooking the town, a single story building fronted by a low walled courtyard. It’s a little threadbare in places, well used and well-loved and Evandre does her best to give it the attention it needs. A worn wooden table and mismatching chairs take up the outdoor area that is bathed in sunlight for most of the day and off the side of the house from the kitchen reaches a thatched porch to shelter under when the days prove too hot or while watching the rain. 

Some of the tightly woven slender branches of the porch roof had taken a battering in a recent gale and Deianeira had been asking Evandre for the past few days if she could repair the damage, and with greater urgency as the day of her parents’ arrival drew closer. So hauling out a ladder and a basket of stripped branches Evandre finally gets to work. The preparations for her parents’ first visit to their home had started weeks ago with Deianeira already having Evandre painting furniture, patching curtains and scrubbing every surface in sight. Thankfully last night and this morning the older amazon had seemed much calmer about her impending guests and Evandre’s progress, aside from the porch.

When the roof is done Evandre lowers the basket Stretching out on the porch roof under the mid-afternoon sun she closing her eyes, lazing in the warmth like a lynx until she hears the sound of horses approaching.

Even from a distance as they ride up the hillside Evandre can see Hippolyta and Philippus have forgone armour, her mother’s leathers are complimented with green and gold fabrics and Papa’s are all shades of red and bronze. It looks as though Aella and Melo have been chosen to accompany the Queen and Consort, following behind in their Guards armour. Evandre scrabbles back off the roof and pressing her boots against the outside of the ladder slides down swiftly, her hands protected by leather wrappings. She is in time to meet the group as they come to a halt outside the courtyard wall. 

As Evandre walks them to the stables she apologises for Deianeira not being back yet but her mother brushes it aside saying it will give them all a chance to get cleaned up from the ride before their host joins then. General is grazing in a paddock beside the buildings, now retired from riding but refusing to join any of the wild herds in the hills, preferring a much more pampered life with Evandre. The mare has gotten used to plenty of Deianeira’s horse passing through and welcomes the four animals from the city with an inquisitive snort, then recognising them gives a few gentle head-butts in greeting before returning to her food bucket. 

With the horses taken care of Evandre moves on to the amazons, first showing the two guards the room they will be staying in and grinning at them already gratefully removing their armour before she even has time to back out of the room. Evandre tells them both to come out to the courtyard once they are ready and she will be starting the evening meal shortly. Then she guides her parents to their room. It is far smaller than their palace apartments but they both look pleased with it before she leaves them to freshen up. 

Late in the afternoon Deianeira returns to find their guests all sat at the newly painted table in the courtyard beside the lemon tree. She’s quick to note that despite plans they had discussed Evandre has obviously gone overboard with the amount of food. There are at least a dozen bowls scattered across the table that are only necessary in Evandre’s mind when she frets about being a good host, though Deianeira notes Aella and Philippus seem more than happy with the offering. 

As she comes through the main gate after taking her horse around to the stables Hippolyta rises to greet her. Occasionally it still surprises Deianeira that her Queen now treats her as a daughter, the older woman taking her by the shoulders and kissing Deianeira’s cheek. When Hippolyta tells her Evandre is in the kitchen with hints of both concern and exasperation in her voice Deianeira reassures her, “I’ll take care of it.” 

Philippus gives Deianeira a bright smile when she reaches the General’s chair on her way to the house. “You have a beautiful home.” 

“Thank you,” she stutters back, relieved Evandre’s Papa seems to consider she is providing well for her daughter. 

Deianeira is excusing herself to go wash up and will then join them when Philippus reaches her hand into one of the bowls only for Hippolyta to slap it away. Giving Deianeira a pointed look she sighs, “Please can you get my daughter to stop bringing out food? They have had more than enough.” The Queen then gives a hard look to her wife and then Aella who both look suitably chastised. 

Fortunately there is no more food being prepared, instead she finds Evandre cleaning dishes in a basin of soapy water. Deianeira grabs her as she passes causing a squeal that draws Melo’s attention from out in the garden and making the poor woman blush as she catches sight of Deianeira and Evandre kissing, Evandre’s wet hands holding Deianeira’s face and the horsewoman’s fingers trailing up Evandre’s thigh.

When they part Evandre takes a swipe at Deianeira’s cheek with the soapsuds, “Go get clean.”

They sit outside into the early evening, their talking and laughter joining the evening calls of birds as they fly home to their nests and Cicadas starting to chirp and sing from the bushes. Deianeira’s favourite part of any day like this is when the other women share stories of Evandre’s childhood with her, Melo and Aella providing some tales she has not heard before. It appears the anecdotes are new to Philippus as well who seems a little put out to be finding out some of her Guards used to help Evandre stay out of trouble or at least avoid getting caught after it. When she turns to Hippolyta it is no surprise that of course her wife was well aware of the Guards little acts of rebellion against her and Aella is quick to blame Venelia for any indiscretions her General can think of. 

When the sun drops below the horizon the two guards move in to the house, taking up seats in front of the fireplace over a small table with a petteia board between them. The couples settle under the porch in the glow of the lanterns that hang from the roof. There are two bench seats so Evandre can curl up under Deianeira’s arm and into her side, a blanket laid across her feet. There is a little less snuggling on her mothers’ bench but they are sat close together at one end, Hippolyta’s head tilted against Philippus’ neck who in turn rests a cheek down on her wife’s hair. 

Hippolyta is more than a little enchanted by the sight of Evandre, so beautiful and strong, gazing lovingly at the woman beside her. She can’t help muttering to Philippus, “Our baby is all grown up.”

“Mother!” Deianeira laughs with Philippus at Evandre’s outrage before the younger woman’s open mouth closes and becomes a pout. Hippolyta takes that as their cue to head to bed, tugging her wife up from the bench with her. Philippus bids them goodnight, brushing Evandre’s shoulder as she waits by the door for Hippolyta to drop a kiss on both Deianeira and Evandre’s heads.

The candles in the lanterns are burning low and the night closes in around them making the stars above them shine brighter and the air colder. Deianeira tightens her arms around Evandre, pulling her heat in. It’s probably more saccharine than sentimental but Deianeira can’t stop herself from saying, “Think how blessed we are to have nights like this forever.” 

“What if we don’t have forever?”

Deianeira isn’t sure where the melancholy tone has come from, until only moments ago Evandre had been laughing and smiling all evening. She brushes her thumb on her artist’s shoulder and waits to see what else she needs to say.

“What if I grow old? If I grow old and die and you and everyone else in Themyscira doesn’t.”

Deianeira hadn’t even known this was something Evandre had thought about and was troubled by but of course to Evandre the amazons she had grown up around had never aged and though she knew Diana had also been a baby and matured just as she did for Evandre’s entire life her sister had not gotten even a day older. 

Later Deianeira will have to address how she had missed Evandre’s fears but right now was about reassuring her partner. “I don’t think that will happen.”

“How can you not?” Evandre’s voice breaks on the edge of tears and Deianeira wriggles her arm from between Evandre and the back of the seat so she can turn and face her. 

“We aged Evandre, in man’s world. Just as you did. It is only on Themyscira we have been hidden away from Cronos’ effects.”

“But Diana and I, we grew from babies.”

A smile tugs at Deianeira as she brushes a single tear away from under Evandre’s eye with her thumb. “I think that the fates and any of the gods who blessed this place were not so cruel as to leave your mothers with a squalling infant for eternity.”

Evandre gives a sniffle and pouts even more. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry. I was only trying to make you smile.” The gentle kiss Deianeira places against Evandre’s lips works a lot better at that than her humour. “Honestly love, we can’t know until it happens or doesn’t happen. You are not like us or like Diana, it’s true. And there are things about this place only the Gods can know. But if it does happen and you grow old then I still want my eternity of nights with you.” 

Evandre raises an eyebrow, obviously unsure. Deianeira pulls her legs under her so she is kneeling on the bench in front of Evandre then places her hands either side of the young woman’s face. 

“I will carry you wherever you wish to go if you become too frail to walk. I will read to you if your eyes fail. And I will sit right here with you and wrap blankets across your knees if you feel the cold in your old bones.”

She finishes by tugging the blanket that lays just to the side of Evandre’s bare feet up over her lap. There’s more tears now, the last of the candle light sparkling in Evandre’s wet eyes, but she gives a little laugh with a deep exhale of breath and then falls forwards into Deianeira’s arms promising her eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. This was meant to be a short filler chapter but it kind of got away from me, in a good way.


	7. We Carry It With Us

Hippolyta had always preferred the aroma of herbs filling the air to the scent of flowers. She could pick out their fragrances as she passed the raised wooden beds and neat little rows of plants of the kitchen gardens. The lavender and lemon balm always made her think of Epione’s medicines and pastes, all their aromas calm and healing. The mint, rosemary, sage and thyme were a thousand different memories from Larina’s kitchen.

As they stroll through the lower tiers of the estate Timandra is happy to follow Hippolyta’s meandering path. When the Senator had arrived for their meeting Hippolyta had led her out to the terrace instead of to their usual stiff backed chairs in her study. For once they would not need to refer to some stack of parchment and scrolls or heavy volume and so the Queen had taken the opportunity to instead have refreshments laid out on the round table just outside the private quarters. There they would be shaded by the row of cyprus trees while they worked but be able to enjoy a view across the gardens laid out below the terrace.

The two old friends were reluctant to part company once their duties were concluded and so ended up taking in the rest of the grounds. For once Hippolyta’s pace was slow and easy with no urgency to be anywhere other than beside Timandra as they caught each other up on the minutiae of their lives that may have slipped by in quick snatches of conversation between Senate sessions. Every once in a while one of them would grab the other’s arm and lean in close to whisper giddily as she shared a piece of scandalous gossip though no one was around to overhear.

When Hippolyta is speaking of her daughters it’s always with such a fierce love and pride it is almost a physical force. Of course there have been times with both of the girls when that ferocity has been softened by exasperation and a yearning to understand their choices, choices which inevitably went against anything their mother suggested. But for now at least as Hippolyta tells Timandra of Evandre digging her own vegetable patch in her garden and the murals she has painted throughout her new home, of watching Evandre and Deianeira grow closer and stronger together and the girl’s diligent work with Abila’s Council there is nothing but respect and admiration in her voice.

It seems it is Diana’s turn to be the cause of her mother’s frustrations. When Timandra asks after the young Lieutenant her friend can offer little detail beyond Diana’s army duties and of late her unenthusiastic presence at formal functions. Apparently the Queen’s eldest daughter has become cagier than usual around any innocent inquiries about time spent with friends and Gods help Hippolyta or Philippus if they even mention romantic liaisons. Timandra tries to supress her amusement at Hippolyta’s now turned full rant over both her daughters’ infuriating need to keep their love lives hidden from their mother. She is not entirely successful in that attempt as when Hippolyta does pause to take a breath and catches the smirk it only causes both of them to start laughing.

“As if I do not know perfectly well who Diana is currently ‘liaising’ with.” Hippolyta takes a deep breath, shaking her head at Diana’s stubbornness. “But I do wish she would simply talk with me about it.”

“Evandre told you when she was ready. Diana will also, Hippolyta.”

“I just…” The older woman sighs and it’s a heavier sigh than Timandra has heard from her friend in a long while. “I worry about her.”

Their pace through the grounds from the herb beds to the canes holding up vegetable plants had sped up as Hippolyta’s words grew more harried but their fit of laughter moments ago stopped them in their tracks and now she turns to Timandra sombre and obviously troubled. “She loved that man. I simply cannot imagine losing Philippus. And when we thought Antiope was gone.”

Timandra has had a lot of practice over a lot of years at picking up on the unspoken words in Hippolyta’s unfocused moments. It has been many centuries since Timandra last had to fear losing her own love that it is such a hard concept to grasp hold of, but Hippolyta came so close to the death of her sister that she has a measure for how much greater that pain might be.

“Diana will find her way, she always has. For now your concern may need to be elsewhere.” Raising her chin a little Timandra indicates over Hippolyta’s shoulder and the Queen turns to see Deianeira approaching from the level above them, looking apprehensive.

Timandra touches Hippolyta’s wrist and gives her a smile before heading off on the path that will take her from the kitchen gardens and out onto the coast road, giving Hippolyta only a moment to ponder what might cause Deianeira to be so anxious she would feel the need to hunt the Queen down in the middle of the day. Of course the horsewoman visits the Capitol often, both with and without Evandre, and there are many evenings she spends dining with her new family. But Deianeira is devoted to her work and not often at the Palace before sunset when all her responsibilities for the day are met.

“My Queen.” Deianeira comes to a stop a short distance from Hippolyta and dips her head. Despite all the repeated reassurances that it is not necessary Deianeira is always far more formal with Hippolyta and Philippus, and even Diana and Antiope, when other amazons are nearby and right now she seems painfully aware that Timandra is still within earshot.

“Please Deianeira we are family, Hippolyta is fine.”

Usually Deianeira would spring straight into apologies, that she just nods in agreement to Hippolyta’s words is yet another indicator that something is weighing heavy on her thoughts. The younger amazon doesn’t yet offer an explanation for the unannounced visit so Hippolyta starts heading back toward the terrace at a slow pace, every few steps checking Deianeira is still following. She makes a few attempts at small talk to try and draw Deianeira out of her melancholy but by the time they’ve left the vegetable patches behind and reached the great white fountain with its statue of Artemis at the centre Hippolyta concludes it is time to be more direct.

“What is troubling you Deianeira?”

Hippolyta has stopped on the path and turned to face the younger amazon but lost in her thoughts Deianeira comes to a startled halt, skidding a little on the stone chippings to stop herself from walking right into her Queen. While Deianeira struggles to find the words to explain herself Hippolyta calmly awaits a response and searches the other woman’s face for answers in case Deianeira cannot voice them. 

Instead of being able to offer any words Deianeira finds herself crying, a stream of hot silent tears she tries to blink away frustrated with herself before almost angrily rubbing at her face to wipe the evidence from her cheeks. Taking hold of her arm and gently holding it away from Deianeira’s face Hippolyta leads her to the nearest bench and then kneels before the younger woman.

“What has my daughter done?”

To Deianeira it is a mystery how the Queen can sound both stern and gentle at the same time. Hippolyta’s questions always demand an answer but she clearly wants Deianeira to know she is fair and will not simply favour Evandre in whatever disagreement they may have had. Oh if only it were as simple as a disagreement, Deianeira thinks. That Hippolyta could just step in as a voice of reason and everything could be as it was.

“She wants to go back.”

Those simple words shouldn’t hold as much power over Hippolyta as they do but she cannot help the fear immediately rising in her, tightening her chest and pushing the air out of her lungs. Those words are the dreadful knowing Hippolyta felt watching Diana sail away that she would never see her daughter again. It does not matter that Diana returned, that Diana brought Evandre back with her. In fact it makes the words hurt more. They hurt her as much as the pain of holding her little girl in her arms after too many nightmares, sobbing that she didn’t want to go back.

It takes a little coaxing before Hippolyta has a clear picture of what exactly has happened between Deianeira and her daughter, trying to put aside her own hurt in learning Evandre has been struggling and yet not shared that with her. The persistent doubts her daughter has that she is not a true amazon and doesn’t quite have a place in Themyscira seem to have led Evandre to the decision that returning to Man’s world may be her only chance to understand who she is. Which in turn has left Deianeira trapped between the dread of letting Evandre go alone and the fear of going with her.

Laying her hands open on Deianeira’s knees Hippolyta waits for the other woman to look at her. “I will speak with Evandre. But I cannot promise I can change her mind if it is made up.”

And Gods how she wishes she could. Hippolyta was unable to stand in Diana’s way when her eldest had felt the pull of that other world and she knows it may be just as impossible with Evandre. Her baby is perhaps the one soul on the island untouched by Man’s world, being far too young when she left to remember its cruelties. But that protection will not last if she returns and Hippolyta she does not want to see another daughter’s heart broken.

“Have you told her why you do not wish to go?”

Deianeira cannot meet Hippolyta’s eyes, instead dropping her head to stare down at the older woman’s strong hands against her skin. “She knows only that you saved me.”

“But not what I saved you from?”

Guilt and shame are evident in Deianeira’s eyes when she lifts her face up but Hippolyta cannot be certain if it is for what happened back then or for not revealing it now to her partner.

“Then I will be sure not to speak of it. It is not my place but yours when or even if you feel ready to,” Hippolyta reassures her, rubbing lightly at Deianeira’s knee until the young amazon takes a deep shuddering breath and then wipes at both her eyes.

The poor girl still looks utterly miserable and in this moment Deianeira looks far younger than her years. Artemis often calls Deianeira’s generation, who were the last to come from the waters long after the first of their sisters had risen, the baby Amazons. Though by now they are all centuries old. While Hippolyta and the other elders had known decades of peace and kindness in the world of Men before their enslavement, Deianeira had experienced only a handful of years.

“Evandre knows the history of our people. It is enough for her to understand why we do not welcome the idea of returning to that world.”

Deianeira sniffles a bit but allows Hippolyta to take her hands, glad she’d hastily dried them on her skirt after wiping away her tears, and is pulled to her feet. The Queen gives her a moment to compose herself and then places a strong hand at the small of Deianeira’s back and begins to guide her up toward the Palace.

The two women spend the rest of the afternoon on the terrace, Hippolyta taking some time to scribble a few notes for the next day’s Senate session but keeping a watchful eye on Deianeira who mostly sits quietly, her feet curled up beneath her on the chair. Deianeira seems reluctant to discuss the issue of Evandre any further so Hippolyta keeps the conversation between them light which makes it easier to keep the reason for Deianeira’s visit from Philippus when she arrives home. That particular discussion with her wife can wait until they are in bed and Hippolyta has a few more tricks available to her to provide distraction. 

After the meal that evening Hippolyta waits until Antiope and Philippus settle themselves either side of the petteia board before she asks Diana to join her in her study, leaving Menalippe to keep a very subdued Deianeira company. Once Diana learns of the discussion earlier in the day she readily agrees to her mother’s request that she ride out to fetch her sister. In fact she is on her feet to head to the stables directly until Hippolyta forbids her from being so reckless as to ride off alone in the middle of the night. Diana concedes to waiting until first light and then spends the rest of the evening hovering by Deianeira like a protective mother lion with a new cub. 

In Abila the next afternoon Evandre is pleasantly surprised to hear a horse approaching the house, the unmistakable thud of hooves against the dry compacted dirt of the road carrying up the hill. From where she sits in the courtyard painting, a wooden panel laid in front of her and several sketch books open for reference on the table beside her, Evandre isn’t able to see beyond the brow of the hill to make out her guest right away but she isn’t expecting anyone to be calling on her and Deianeira is not due back from the city for a couple more days. Her first assumption is that it’s Anaea with some work related matter and though not an entirely pleasant interruption to her day Evandre does know her colleague will not come empty handed but with figs and a loaf of fresh bread as a bribe. It could also be Cynna seeking out a hunting partner and Evandre is often easily persuaded to drop any task for an excuse to slip out into the forest with her bow even so late in the afternoon.

Once her visitor is in view Evandre is surprised to see Diana riding up the hill, immediately dropping her brush to the table top without concerning herself that the paint might mark it she runs to welcome her sister. She used to show the same singlemindedness back at the Palace when she was a child, hurtling toward the main gates toward Diana whenever the older amazon returned from days away on some training exercise out in the forests or the mountains. It would be left to one of the Guards to catch the wilful little girl by the wrist to stop her, though more often than not Evandre would manage to wriggle free. Venelia was the softest touch, always seeming to have a tenuous grip on Evandre just as soon as Diana was close enough to catch the girl so Evandre could race into her arms to be lifted up and swung around dizzyingly until their mother called her away so Diana could go get cleaned up.

That giddy excitement Evandre had as a child is the same now. Of course Diana had stopped spinning her little sister around in her arms a good few years ago but already Evandre is listing in her head all the things that have happened since they last saw each other that she has to share.

Evandre’s enthusiasm is quickly extinguished once she gets a clear view of the very stern look on Diana’s face. That look clearly says Evandre is in trouble and Diana has come to tell her as much. And it is not the warm affectionate expression of the sister who would hide a vase Evandre broke when she was still a baby or when Evandre was older help her drunk arse to her room without being seen by their mother. This is the sister who would lecture her on how disappointed she was in Evandre or had her sit in the corner to think about what she’d done and it made no difference if Evandre was five years old or twenty. This occasion at least Evandre is pretty sure she hasn’t done anything that would land her in the corner.

As Diana draws her horse up to the perimeter wall, her stirruped foot reaching just above it, she simply says, “We need to talk.”

Diana does not often look like Mother. It is far easier to see their differences with Diana’s dark hair and dark eyes, Mother’s broader shoulders in contrast to Diana’s willowy frame but that single unyielding command is all Hippolyta.

Leaving Evandre to wait and ponder what she’d done Diana leads her horse around to the stable yard. In her nervousness the young amazon fusses over tidying away her paints and brushes and straightening the sketchbooks into neat little piles. She is sat beside the table with her hands under her thighs and rocking a little in the chair when Diana returns, feeling incredibly anxious and guilty despite being no wiser to the reason for Diana’s visit.

Her sister grabs the back of one of the chairs tucked up under the table and pulls it out with a clatter over the flagstones before picking it up from the ground. She sets it down right in front of Evandre and then sits so they are face to face with their knees almost touching.

“You want to go back.”

Oh. She had done something wrong. Of course Diana would be mad at her, here was her reckless baby sister wanting to wander right back into the world that had taken the love of her life from her.

“I’m sorry. Deianeira wasn’t meant to say anything, I wanted to talk to you about it myself. I don’t even really know if…”

Diana holds up her hand to stop Evandre talking. “Deianeira didn’t tell me. She told Mother.”

For a moment Evandre doesn’t know what to do with that piece of information and then her thoughts start spiralling; Deianeira must be so mad and upset with her if she went to her mother, and now Mama will be both furious and worried thinking Evandre will do what Diana did and leave. And it won’t be long until her Papa will know too and when Papa is angry she gets silent and Evandre couldn’t bear only silence between them. And all for something she’s not entirely sure about.

Diana ducks her head a little to catch Evandre’s eye as the younger woman stares down at her legs and her breathing gets a little faster and heavier. “Hey, I understand and so does Mother. Even Deianeira. It’s natural you’d be curious about where you came from but we are worried about you. Wanting to go back? Have you truly thought this through?”

“No.”

Diana is a little startled by the answer. Evandre’s blue eyes are watery now and her forehead is scrunched up in confusion. “I mean yes. I… I can’t explain it, make sense of it the way you will all want me to. I just need to go back.”

Sighing Diana reaches out a hand toward Evandre and rests it against the side of her sister’s head, brushing a thumb over her brow until the frown has eased. “I don’t know where you came from Evandre. There are questions I cannot answer for you.”

“I know. Maybe that’s why I want to see it myself. Where you found me at least.”

Diana pulls her hand back and sits a moment just looking at the girl in front of her. The woman in front of her. “Okay. I’ll take you.” When Evandre starts to protest that just because she decided she needed to go that does not mean she is making Diana go too, the older woman again holds out her hand to stop her speaking.

“Do you really think Mother and Philippus will let you leave without me?”

After Evandre is done rolling her eyes Diana tells her she came under instructions from Hippolyta that she was to stay the night then they are to both ride back to the Palace in the morning. Without saying as much aloud they agree not to discuss leaving anymore tonight and share a light evening meal talking as though Evandre has not decided on something that has already shaken up the settled life they all lead. When Diana suggests they get an early night Evandre realises neither of their spare rooms are made up; Diana knows it would be easy enough to prepare a bed for herself but there’s a hopeful little plea in Evandre’s eyes that she can’t ignore.

“Its fine, we can share. Just like old times.”

Evandre remembers falling asleep in Diana’s arms so many times when she was a child. Even in her adolescent years she would sneak in to Diana’s rooms sometimes if she wasn’t feeling well or had a bad dream or if there was a storm outside. If she’s honest with herself she feels a little guilty about that now. For so many years not only was Diana unable to bring a woman back home if she wanted to avoid Mother finding out about an affair but she also had to consider her little sister might appear by her bed in the middle of the night.

As they settle under the blankets Evandre immediately shuffles to press her back against Diana who curls around her sister throwing an arm over her hip and shifting on the pillow to tuck Evandre’s head under her chin. Absently Diana brings her arm up to brush her fingers through Evandre’s hair. At the temples it is still as fine as when Evandre was a baby and with her eyes closed Diana can recall what it felt like then.

“The first night I had you I was so scared. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just sat awake with you in my arms all night worried about what I might do wrong but you slept like nothing on this earth could trouble you. All I ever wanted was for you to keep that feeling. I promised I would do whatever I could to make that happen.”

Evandre has always found it funny how people whisper in the dark even if there is no one around to disturb but she still whispers back. “You never told me that before.”

She feels a kiss pressed to the top of her head and then Diana’s arm is wraps across her middle as she’s told, “Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

They leave Abila when the sun breaks the horizon, making only a few stops to rest the horses and themselves as they ride hard for most of the day to arrive at the Capitol shortly before evening. Venelia nods them in at the main gates giving Evandre the warning glare she reserves for when the Princess is heading toward some trouble with her parents that she might want to avoid. Venelia gives Diana an altogether different look which Evandre does not want to think too much about.

In the main corridor of the royal apartments Diana gives Evandre a little shove toward her old room which lets Evandre know that in all likelihood that is where Deianeira is waiting for her. She pushes open the door as softly as she can but as she peers around it she sees her entrance was obviously noticed by her partner who is sat across the room on the bed with a leather-bound book resting on her lap. Evandre’s momentary reluctance to face Deianeira passes the instant the other woman pushes the book aside onto the blankets and rushes towards her. They meet in the middle of the room and somewhere between kisses they both murmur ‘I’m sorry’.

Deianeira finally pulls back enough to say more, pressing her palms against the younger woman’s chest to hold Evandre off. “I shouldn’t have told your mother on you.”

“You didn’t. You came for advice and she’s the best person to ask about… well everything.” Evandre has stopped pressing forward so Deianeira drops her arms, trailing a couple of fingertips down Evandre’s side to her hip.

“But for future reference Menalippe is a good second choice. Especially if what you need advice on is something I might get in trouble for.” Deianeira laughs despite herself and bats at Evandre but her hand then stays on her partner’s chest beside her heart. Evandre lays her own over it. “I’m sorry I didn’t see I upset you.”

“I know you have to go, I’m just not sure I’m strong enough to go with you.”

“You don’t have to. And you don’t need to decide now. Diana says she will take me so I’ll be in good hands if you stay here. My mothers may drive you crazy though.”

Sometimes Deianeira has to wonder if Evandre’s charm can get her out of anything. It undoubtedly works on her very time.

Once the decision had been made it only takes five days to get themselves ready to leave Themyscira. A boat is prepared and provisions loaded for their travel and though the question of whether Deianeira will come remains as yet unanswered they make all their arrangements as though she will.

Antiope tries numerous times to persuade Diana that the three amazons should wear full armour for their journey but Diana is insistent that they will be just fine with only a minimal amount under their clothes, clothes that she has Phoebe prepare in the style of similar to what she had brought back with her all those years ago. In no time at all the seamstress has a small selection of long skirts with panelling that allows for a decent amount of movement, wide legged trousers, tailored shirts, jackets and waist coats. Evandre fusses relentlessly when they try on what Phoebe has made but Deianeira takes to the clothes the moment she puts them on. Diana is not foolish enough to think adjusting to Man’s world will be quite so easy as dressing for it so in the days before they leave she does all she can to prepare them both by sharing the stories of her time there.

Evandre had guessed right about the silent treatment from her papa. The obstinate General spent two whole days avoiding talking to her and while doing so drilled the Royal Guards so hard Hippolyta was forced to step in. After a talk behind closed doors that every member of the Royal household pretended they did not hear Philippus spent the following three days barely leaving Evandre’s side, which was somehow even worse than the silent treatment.

On the final night before they are due to leave Evandre had only shaken her Papa off when she dragged Deianeira to their bed. And they did go to bed with the intention of sleep but as much as she tries Evandre just cannot seem to find it. Deianeira lays quiet in her arms but Evandre is certain she is not asleep yet either. 

“I’m scared.”

“Good. You, my love, make stupid decisions when you are not scared.”

Evandre laughs a little and nuzzles into the back of Deianeira’s head. Her hair smells like peaches and whenever Deianeira is away from home Evandre hopes she will return before her scent on the pillow fades. 

“I make less stupid decisions when you are with me.” Deianeira is motionless and Evandre worries she may have pushed too far but the time to make a decision is drawing ever closer. She feels Deianeira nod to herself and her chest rising against Evandre’s palms as she takes a breath before she’s turning in Evandre’s arms to gaze into her love’s eyes.

“Then I suppose I shall just have to come with you.”

In the morning there is no attempt to sneak away this time for Diana as they make ready to leave from one of the larger docks with their family and some of their friends to see them off. When the time does come Philippus cannot bear to speak or wait for the others, she simply gathers both Evandre and Deianeira into her arms without a word. Once she lets them go she pulls Diana in close and battling the tightness in her throat tells her, “Come back. Just like last time.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them.”

“Or you.” Philippus orders and then she walks away from the group back towards the city without turning back.

As Diana and Evandre say their goodbyes to Menalippe, Otrera, Venelia and Aella, Antiope pulls Deianeira to one side. A couple of days ago she had seen first-hand just how adept the horsewoman was with a knife when she and Evandre visited the training grounds and Deianeira had shown up Egeria with her perfect precision aim. She had also thrown with such force her blades split the target board. Of course Diana had forbid Evandre bringing her bow and was herself only taking the Lasso but Antiope still felt uncomfortable with them being so unarmed. 

“I have no doubt Diana will protect you both every moment she is by your side. But I would feel better if you took this.”

Being sure her eldest niece’s attention is elsewhere Antiope slips a dagger to Deianeira.

Hippolyta is the last to say goodbye, waiting for everyone else to drift back up to the shore before she reaches out for Diana and takes her face in her hands just as she had all those years ago. 

“My greatest joy.” 

They share a smile before Hippolyta continues, “I have no fears this time.”

Leaning over Hippolyta drops a kiss on Diana’s forehead, for which Diana has to duck a little to give her mother the height advantage. 

“Return home soon.”

“Yes Mother.”

Deianeira is next and Hippolyta only asks her, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The younger woman shifts her gaze over Hippolyta’s shoulder to catch Antiope’s eye as she nods. Hippolyta holds Deianeira’s hands in both of hers, her thumb tracing back and forth before she nods back.

Finally her hands are on Evandre’s cheeks. There are no more tears in her daughter’s eyes but Hippolyta can feel the wetness against her palms of those she had missed when wiping her sleeve across her face.

“You might not like what you find.”

Evandre swallows hard. “I know.”

“Whatever you do find remember this is your home. No one and nothing will ever take you from us.”

“I know that too Mama.” And she rolls her eyes with a smirk tugging at her lips. Hippolyta finds herself laughing as she holds back her own tears for her beautiful and astonishing, infuriating and bold daughter.

“Go,” she finally says, pushing Evandre lightly away toward the boat where Deianeira and Diana wait for her.


	8. To Finish What Was Started

“Sit down. Do not touch anything.” 

Ignoring Diana’s command Evandre reaches out for the coil of rope near her hand. “I’m just trying to…” Halfway through trying to explain herself Evandre looks up and the matching glares coming from Deianeira and Diana cause her to snatch her hand back. Instead she moodily drops on to the blankets folded by their packs and crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

They had been sailing for a few hours now through an empty endless ocean under cloudy skies, having passed through the shimmering curtain of who-knows-what-magic that protects Themyscira before they’d even lost sight of the shore. Diana has spent so many years sailing the bays around the island with Penthesilea and Venelia that the duties on-board are almost second nature and even Deianeira who barely ever stepped from the shore can easily follow Diana’s instructions. Evandre though is having a harder time. She has spent the whole morning failing to understand her sister’s directions as she mutters under her breath ‘why can’t you just call it left or right’. And when she did grasp enough of the terminology to comprehend a task she then struggled to it carry out while fighting against the constantly rocking deck. So fine, she thinks, if Diana and Deianeira can manage so well without her help then let them. While Evandre intends to simply glare at the pair of them while they work she soon bores of trying to make a point while her sister and partner ignore her and instead pulls a sketchbook and charcoal from her satchel. 

After the sails are all set and Diana is happy that their small vessel is on course she and Deianeira sit back against the stern, Diana’s arm resting lazily over the tiller and both of them feeling the beginnings of aches in muscles that aren’t used to getting quite this type of workout. Diana is happy to see Evandre has been distracted from her earlier sulk by the open sketchbook in her lap but feels she should probably apologise to her sister for snapping at her at least half a dozen times as she tried to assist their efforts. Unsurprisingly the sisters forgive each other easily and the three amazons pass the rest of the afternoon in easy conversations of home, reminiscing like old sailors who have been away at sea for years not barely a day away from shore. 

As the light starts to fade with nightfall strong winds fill the sails and Diana believes they will likely see land by morning. When she tells the other two women to get some sleep both she and Deianeira are surprised by how readily Evandre agrees and begins to lay out makeshift beds for the three of them. The youngest amazon is even asleep before Deianeira has a chance to join her and Diana notes not much has altered in Evandre’s sleeping habits since she was a child climbing into her older sister’s bed. Evandre’s limbs are sprawled across the deck and one of the blankets is gathered up across her stomach barely covering her; many years ago Diana had to put up with little arms and legs hitting her in sleep or the girl stealing the majority of the bed covers only to toss them off herself halfway through the night. On this occasion the almost discarded blanket can be explained by the fact that their current outfits from Phoebe are made up of a lot more layers than any of them are used to. Regardless Diana watches Deianeira tug at the edge of the blanket to pull it back over Evandre when she crouches down beside her.

Feeling Diana’s gaze Deianeira looks up at her as she tucks the blanket in under Evandre’s shoulder. “This is the easiest she has slept in weeks.”

There’s a touch of lightness in Deianeira’s voice that Diana has not heard in the past few days, as though this one small thing may be confirmation enough for her that they have chosen the right course. But Diana knows there is still a dark fear beneath the other woman’s words.

“We will only be a few days. Evandre will see what she needs to see and then we can all go home.”

Deianeira mutters a quiet thankyou and a good night as she curls up under her own blanket leaving Diana to watch over the pair of them. Evandre even in her dreams is pulled to her love, rolling over to her side and wrapping herself around Deianeira. 

In the grey morning light they both stir to the sight of London from the Thames. Their faces as they take it in reflect just how Diana had felt on first seeing a city of Man’s world, so different from Themyscira, a mix of astonishment and disdain. 

Her last view of the Thames had been looking down from one of its bridges and it seems much has changed since then. There are more boats taking up the waterways but hardly any have sails, the chugging noise of motor engines and the boisterous shouts of men trying to be heard over them overpower any sound of the river itself. And every boat seems to tower above their little vessel, with high iron sides and lofty funnels billowing out smoke. 

It takes a while and a few stops at different jetties before they find a mooring with someone willing to trust that they will return with payment and then Deianeira and Evandre are introduced to the wonder of London’s streets. Again nothing is quite the same as when Diana had left, the tightly packed buildings reach higher into the sky, there are fewer horses pulling carts and far more motor cars taking up the roads, and there seem to be more people everywhere.

Diana’s first, and honestly only, part of her plan is to return to the flat she shared with Etta and to that end she walks through the nearby streets trying to get her bearings with Deianeira and Evandre following closely like lost ducklings. As their wandering takes them past pile after pile of rubble from destroyed buildings and signs in shop windows declaring what is or isn’t on ration Evandre looks to Diana bewildered. “I thought you said the war ended.”

Diana is just as confused to not be returning to a bright and prosperous England. Catching sight of a newsstand she picks up a paper, offering a radiant smile to the old man behind the counter hoping he will not ask for a coin while she checks the date. August 1946, almost thirty years have passed in man’s world. Trying not to let show any of the anxiety she feels over the now dim hope she will still find Etta where they once lived, Diana neatly folds the newspaper up and slides it back in place on the stand. Following street signs and the sometimes helpful hand gestures from a few people the group eventually find Charing Cross station and the number 11 bus which still runs its familiar route to the end of Jubilee Road. 

Feeling bad about it but reasoning it is necessary, Diana sneaks herself, Evandre and Deianeira onto the vehicle amongst a bustle of people; men in dark suits carrying shiny black briefcases and umbrellas, women with large paper bags of shopping, babies or both bundled in their arms, a mix of wailing and giggling children weaving around the other passengers legs. With a hand at each of the other amazons’ backs Diana guides the two of them just out of the conductor’s sight for a few stops before giving both a hasty shove out the open back of the bus at their stop just as the conductor finally notices them to ask for tickets. The man is left holding onto the pole as he leans out from the back step waving an angry fist at the women while the bus drives off. 

Deianeira enjoys a moment of teasing the ever moral and honourable Diana for not paying for their ride as they walk toward a towering building. Back home something this scale would be built of large blocks of pale stone but this building is made up of small deep-red bricks, the façade broken up by dozens upon dozens of black framed windows. 

At the glass fronted entrance doors Diana reaches for the buzzer just to one side and waits for the doorman to let them in. He stands holding the door open as they pass, a skinny man wearing an ill-fitting green suit jacket that he looks almost lost in and walking with a limp as he moves back behind the narrow reception desk.

“We’re here to see Miss Etta Candy. Flat 17.”

“That’s Mr and Mrs Williams now Miss.” The doorman doesn’t offer them any more than that, the dull look of boredom in his eyes a clear indication that he is hoping they will take the hint and simply leave. Unfortunately for him perseverance is one of Diana’s fortes. Feeling a little sorry for the man Evandre winces as her sister bombards him with questions ‘when did they move in’, ‘would they know who lived here before them’, ‘perhaps they might know of someone else we could speak to’.

They are all questions he can’t answer and after a few stuttered attempts to speak whenever Diana draws breath he realises these women will not leave without some kind of answer and decides throwing this Mrs Williams at them might at least earn him some peace. “His wife should be home, Miss.” 

Diana graces the doorman with a smile and he breathes a deep sigh of relief before saying, “I’ll call up for you.”

He reaches across the counter and picks up the large handle of the telephone. It’s another thing to add to her list of changes, no longer shaped with gleaming brass the receiver is simply a black bulk, glossy like a polished pebble. They hear the faint rings down the line and then the squeak of a woman’s voice answering. Despite Diana having explained telephones to the pair of them, along with motor cars, lightbulbs, wireless radio, photography and every other modern marvel she could remember, Evandre and Deianeira still gawk a little at the contraption being used in front of them.

“Morning Mrs Williams, sorry to disturb you. I have a woman here at the front desk looking for a Miss Candy, she’s very… insistent.” He narrows his eyes at Diana and having spent enough time around the likes of Artemis and Otrera she has a fair guess of a few other words he’d prefer to describe her as. “Says she used to… yes madam. I’ll send them up.” 

The phone receiver isn’t even back in its cradle before Diana sweeps past the desk toward the end of the hallway. “I remember the way, thank you.” Deianeira snorts at the pleasantly smug look plastered across Diana’s face.

Both Evandre and Deianeira are a little intimidated by the lift, giving Diana matching concerned glances as she pulls the rattling metal gate shut on the wooden box with plush panelling. There’s brass here still at least, the panel beside the door with a dozen black buttons all numbered is shined and polished. Diana presses the button with the number four on it and tries not to laugh when Evandre’s hand shoots out to grab her wrist when the lift begins to judder and rise from the ground floor. 

When the lift doors open on the fourth floor there is an old woman standing in the threshold of the doorway opposite; she’s less round than Diana remembers, especially in her face but that smile is very much the same. Diana is across the corridor in two steps and has Etta pulled into a hug. When the older woman eventually steps back to hold her at arm’s length and give her an appraising gaze up and down Diana surprises herself with how reluctant she is to let go. 

“Look at you. Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Etta leans a little around Diana then with a gentle bat at her arm makes her old friend step aside so she can take in Diana’s companions who are both still standing by the lift. The taller of the pair has skin the colour of some of the young men from the West Indies and Caribbean Etta has seen in their British forces uniforms, her black hair straightened and swept up in a tight knot at the back of her head. On the street anyone would think her a young woman in her late twenties, early thirties maybe but Etta can see it, the almost imperceptible thing that makes this woman different from herself and even from Diana. Those eyes are old. Etta has no doubt she is looking at an Amazon who has seen this world before, a very long time ago. 

The third woman is a similar age at least in appearance but she carries herself differently from the amazon beside her. Etta has seen enough boys in uniform start out with that same innocence and vigour burning through them to recognise youth when she sees it. But even if she didn’t Etta would know those wide crystal-blue eyes staring back at her anywhere, and though they are a little older than when she last saw them they are not ancient. 

Evandre walks across the hallway towards Etta causing the old woman to have to crane her neck to look up and keep eye contact with the girl. “Well you’ve certainly grown.”

Diana stifles a laugh and Evandre looks confused. Etta takes Evandre’s hand in one of her own and pats it comfortingly. “Clearly Diana never told you that this was your first home.” 

Etta gives Diana a mock stern glance before she raises her arms and waves them toward the door as if to herd them. “Come on, come on. Can’t have you standing on the doorstep all day,” she singsongs as she begins bustling them all into the flat.

Through the narrow hallway and into the living room Etta fuses over them, taking coats and jackets and then finding places for them to sit. A little overwhelmed by how unchanged the place is Diana drops heavily down onto the sofa, finding herself staring across the room at the same paper that decorated the walls when she lived here, though somewhat faded. 

As Etta heads into the small kitchen to put a kettle on the stove top Evandre leans across the arm of her chair to ask, “I lived here?”

Diana grins back at her sister. “For a little while. Until I arranged for a boat to take us back. And once Etta could bear to be parted from you.”

“Oh you were the sweetest thing.” Etta is back with a tray that she sets on the low table in the centre of the room, the painted china cups rattling on their saucers. “Until bath time and then you near screamed the place down. The neighbours must have wondered what we were doing to you.”

Deianeira and Diana both attempt to hide sniggers behind their hands unsuccessfully as Evandre leans back into the cushions and folds her arms across her chest. Once she’s done chuckling Etta stage whispers to Diana, “and that adorable pout is still the same I see.”

In a blink the old woman is out the room and back again, this time with the teapot. As she begins pouring out to the four cups her hands shake a little under the weight of the full pot so Diana takes it from her telling her to sit. Just as Etta relents and is hovering over the cushion of the empty armchair she realises they haven’t finished the introductions and rises again to hold her hands out to Deianeira across the coffee table. “Oh my. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Etta.” 

Deianeira takes both hands in her own earning a winning smile from Etta. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. Diana has told us much about her time here. Though apparently not everything.” She directs a little smirk toward Evandre. “My name is Deianeira.”

As Etta finally takes a seat Diana tells her, “Deianeira and Evandre are…” She pauses, remembering Steve trying to explain relationships in his world to her while almost desperately shaking off her grip on his hand. “Together.”

“Of course they are.” Etta blurts out, shaking her head a little at Diana being so absurd as to think she needs to explain such a thing. She settles herself back in the overstuffed cushions of the armchair with a teacup in hand. Just before she takes a sip she says, “Evandre looks at her the way Steve tried not to look at you.”

Smiling from behind the rim of her teacup the old woman seems immensely pleased with herself at making Evandre blush quite so hard and by the delightfully proud smile on Deianeira’s lips.

“Etta, I have to know. When I left the war was over, we were making things better again. What happened out there?” Diana gestures beyond the window, to the rest of the world beyond these few rooms that have stayed so like the ones she left behind. 

Etta’s sigh carries all the weight of that world. Of course she would rather not tell what happened Diana but knows she must, even though it will break the amazon’s heart to hear it. And so she starts with the only things she is certain of- the War to End All Wars had not lived up to its name and that men have short memories and even without the influence of a God they make the same mistakes over and over again, dreaming up new cruelties to inflict on each other. 

By the time she is done telling them how the world had torn itself apart again Diana looks sad and tired but it is Evandre who staggers to her feet. 

“Excuse me, I need to…” She leaves the room without finishing, shaking her head and unable to find the right words. Diana catches the desperate glance from Deianeira before she too rises from her seat and follows right behind her love.

“Poor thing. It’s not the homecoming she hoped for I imagine.”

“Tell me something good. Anything.” Diana leans forward in her chair, forearms on her knees and hands together almost in prayer, begging for Etta to provide her with something that will make any of their sacrifices seem worthwhile.

And she is beyond pleased to hear that despite living through two of Man’s greatest wars Etta Candy has had a good life, one filled with love. She continued to work with British Intelligence where, following Diana’s example, she refused to be told what the limits were for women and rose both in rank and the esteem of most of her colleagues. Those few old men still clinging to their antiquated notions of a woman’s place had soon learned to adjust and accept what was happening when she refused to do anything but stand her ground. Not long after Diana left Etta married a kind man who adores her as much today as when they met, and together they have two children grown and two beautiful grandchildren, though she is still waiting on her boy to find someone to settle down with and add to that number. 

“Have you found someone special?”

There’s a frame on the mantle Diana noticed earlier, a small photograph of a man she once knew and still loves. Etta follows her gaze.

“You know Steve wouldn’t like you to pine for him.” They share a moment of silence before the corner of Etta’s mouth curls up, “Well maybe a little.” Steve did enjoy being the centre of attention, especially if the attention was that of a pretty lady. But Etta can still remember the way he had looked at Diana, even when she was totally exasperating the both of them, as though she had without notice become the centre of his universe and he had no idea how to stop himself from being pulled towards her. 

“But then he would want you to be happy.”

Trying to reassure her friend Diana forces a smile. “I know.”

Etta moves to rise from her seat but Diana signals her to stay where she is and stands to retrieve the frame herself. “Where did you…” Her question trails off without finishing. She’d only seen one photograph of Steve before, standing proudly in front of his plane. That picture had been given in commemoration of him to the memorial in Trafalgar Square when they celebrated the end of the war and Diana had not seen it again or any other.

“Oh it was in his records, at the office. One day I was clearing out some old cupboard or other and I opened a folder and there he was, just staring up at me. I was so taken aback I almost started crying right there in the office. Didn’t of course, had to keep the side up you know.”

Diana takes a long look at Steve’s face, serious and probably a little irritated by the inconvenience of having to sit for the photographer. This picture didn’t capture the cheekiness of his smile or the light in his eyes but there is something so painfully wonderful about seeing him again even like this. She holds the frame out to Etta but the woman shakes her head.

“It’s yours.”

“Thankyou.” She presses the photograph against her chest tight with one hand, fingertips brushing over the back of the frame. “Thankyou.”

Settling back on the sofa Diana asks for more stories of the time she’s been gone and Etta is telling her about Sameer getting a role in a film and taking her children to the local picture house to see it when Evandre and Deianeira return to the room. While Deianeira comes across to sit beside Diana Evandre kneels beside Etta’s chair. With her hands and chin resting on the arm she sheepishly apologises for walking out only for Etta to pat the girl’s cheek reassuringly, “There is nothing for you to apologise for.”

They sit late into the afternoon making plans for returning to Belgium. Back in 1918 Etta had been the beneficiary of Steve’s will and had set up an account for the funds in Diana’s name, certain it was what Steve would have wanted. Diana had used it in the months she had spent in London before and after finding Evandre but when the pair returned to Themyscira there was still a sizeable amount left. Ever the planner Etta had left the account open and assures Diana it will easily pay for their return to Belgium and anything else they may need.

That evening Mr Arthur Williams arrived home a little startled to find three amazons in his living room with tea and biscuits. But life with Etta had always been a remarkably wild ride and even to this almighty surprise he adjusted quickly. In no time Arthur had ordnance maps of Europe unrolled across the dining table with books and a sugar pot holding down the corners as he and Deianeira marked out the routes the women would need to take from the place names Diana had given them.

Etta would help Diana arrange for their passage across the channel to the port of Ostend once they had called on the bank and paid for the mooring of their own boat. Then as soon as they know what ship they would arrive on Etta will send a telegram to ensure they are met by one Doctor George Steven Williams, Etta and Arthur’s son. 

Etta is full of praise for their boy who spent the war trying to do whatever he could to fix some of what had been broken; even if all he could help were soldiers’ bodies. When the war ended George felt his work was still not done and had chosen to remain in Europe to support one of the many Displaced Persons Camps. He had grown up on stories of Steve, Charlie, Sameer and Chief’s many adventures and how they had helped end the Great War with Diana. He had met his three Uncles of course and adored them all but there was no reason for him to believe we would ever get to meet his Aunt Diana so Etta is sure he will be thrilled to hear she is back.

As it grew dark outside and amongst the preparation and scheduling they had all eaten supper with plates resting on laps or on the edge of the table not covered by maps and scraps of note paper. Afterwards Etta and Evandre stand over the kitchen sink washing up the dishes, the old woman trying to answer all the questions the young amazon fires at her. When they have finished Etta decides to address one final thing, their clothes; though admittedly far more covert than Diana’s armour had been they are, she says, a little dated. 

Leading the three amazons into one of the bedrooms Etta begins to pull clothing from the wardrobe that had once been her daughter’s to find a few things which will be suitable for each of them, the blouses, skirts and trousers all scented in lavender to keep away any moths. The whole process of making sure they have a few outfits each is far less painful than her experience of first meeting Diana in Selfridges, a story which causes Evandre to laugh so much tears stream from her eyes. 

“You wouldn’t be laughing so hard if Etta made you wear a corset,” Diana threatens. 

Leaving Deianeira and Evandre, who Etta has taken to calling ‘the girls’, in that room and wishing them a good night Etta directs Diana down the hall to George’s old room which had also once been Diana’s. 

“It’s a little different now too. But you’ll find that with a lot of things I’m afraid.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to cling to something solid from her past Diana pulls her friend into her arms. She is careful to be far more gentle that she would have been all those years ago but finds Etta returns the embrace with all the fierceness she once did. More to herself than responding to Etta Diana whispers, “Not the important things.”

In the morning Etta insists they all sit for breakfast before they set off to their tasks. Paying special attention to Evandre she frets over the youngest amazon’s plate ensuring it is full despite what Evandre eats from it and then repeatedly asking if she has everything she needs before heading out the door of the flat. By late afternoon as she sees them off at the train station to begin their journey down to the coast and across to Belgium, Etta is fussing over the collar of Evandre’s jacket and worrying over if she had enough to eat at lunch much to Deianeira’s amusement. 

On the train Diana marvels at the transformation of the landscape outside her window while Evandre simply gapes at the scenery speeding past in a blur. Beside Evandre Deianeira sits deliberately looking away from the blurred streaking images of houses, factories and fields, a little pale she mutters every now and then under her breath that she would rather be on horseback. 

When the trio disembark from their passenger steam ship in Ostend the following day they are met by George waving both his arms enthusiastically in the air. Even without the eager welcome Diana would have easily picked him out of the crowd; though he obviously got his height from his father almost everything else about his features and demeanour are Etta. As they clear the obstacles of wooden barriers and port officials George bounds over to the three woman and greets them all like family, dragging each of them into fierce hugs even though he is blushing a little by the time he has let Diana go last. 

“After Mum’s telegram I, err… I told the other doctors at the camp that you and Evandre are my distant cousins. That you’re hoping to track down family in Belgium.” He gives Diana a mischievous grin as he continues, “I thought Aunt might be a little harder to explain.” 

Looking at him now Diana can clearly see the little boy from Etta’s tales the previous night in his beaming face and shining eyes. 

Driving back to the camp George tells them he can offer food and beds for a few of nights with some of their nurses and that in the morning he has found someone willing to drive them the few hours out to the village where Diana had met Evandre as a baby. The roads they’re on are mostly muddy tracks or broken up rubble which rock the car and again Deianeira looks a little uncomfortable with their ride until they arrive at the camp and she gratefully bolts from the vehicle. 

The camp is a mix of tents and huts made from wood or tin, little stencilled signs in English, Dutch French and German direct everyone to everything from the latrines and showers to clinics, food distribution and water collection. All around them they see men, women and children trying to make do when they have nothing left to call their own but each other.

Diana is certain none of them sleep well that night, lying awake in her single cot bed under a thin blanket hearing both Evandre and Deianeira shift constantly in their own beds. In the morning George plies them with foul tasting bitter coffee over breakfast before sending them off with the local man who will drive them to the village outside of Ghent Diana had been helping to rebuild before the nuns travelled through with their group of orphaned children. 

At the outskirts Diana can already tell the village had grown after the first war, just as she had hoped when she and Charlie rebuilt the walls here. She can see larger houses and shop fronts, what was once dirt streets had been paved, large communal spaces that would have been green and bursting with flowers. The people here had prospered for a while but now it was only deserted rubble and burned out shells. 

Their driver stays at the wheel of the car. Diana wonders if perhaps he knew what they would find but if he had, he chose not to share it. When Evandre heads into the desolate village in a daze Deianeira stays back, allowing Diana to be the one to follow her little sister into the ruins. When Diana reaches Evandre and lays a hand on her shoulder Evandre turns and Diana sees the streaks of tears down her cheeks. She pulls Evandre to her chest, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head. 

“There’s nothing here for you. Let’s go back.” 

The drive back to the camp is made in complete silence and without having to say a word George understands their day did not go at all well. It’s late and quiet, the echoes of babies crying somewhere nearby are faint in the low hum of hundreds of people sleeping around them. There are only a few people in the mess tent that George leads them to, a couple of doctors at one table chewing wearily on some kind stew and a lone nurse drinking tea. 

Evandre sits in a corner by a stove heater folding her arms on the table and dropping her head down onto them. When Deianeira sits beside her placing two bowls down in front of them Evandre barely has the energy to lift her head, instead she lolls to one side and flicks her eyes up to Deianeira. 

“I’m sorry I brought you here for nothing.”

Deianeira rubs a hand across Evandre’s back before prompting her to sit up and forcing a spoon into her hand. 

“It wasn’t for nothing, Artist.” Evandre sniffles, swallows the spoonful she had hovering in front of her face as Deianeira spoke and then pulls a disgusted face as the taste of the mystery meat hits her.

On the next table Diana and George talk quietly about what happened at the village. He had heard all about Evandre being found by Diana from his mother when he was younger and over the years she had fashioned it into the story of a lost Amazon Princess being found and taken home. Thinking of it now that once bedtime story had been one of the reasons he had wanted to help here, where there were so many children who needed taking care of, care that he could give. He feels a little foolish telling Diana this but finds her quiet presence easily draws the words from him. 

When his Aunt tells him, “You are a good man George Steven Williams,” he only protests that there’s so much more he should do but can’t. 

After a quick glance to check Evandre is not paying attention to their conversation, and she seems suitably distracted by the abysmal food on offer, George tells Diana of some of the stories he has heard of children in East Prussia fleeing the advance of the Russian’s Red Army. Children that somehow got left behind when the Germans evacuated the previous year now trying to get to Lithuania and Germany for some kind of safety, or simply living in the forests surviving for themselves. Those telling the stories, whispers that had travelled across Europe, were calling them Wolf Children.

“Why would no one help them? They’re children.” Diana recognises the same burning in her chest she felt when Sameer told her people would starve a baby girl of love and shame her for what happened to her mother. How could they possibly leave any child alone and scared. George’s answer does not make her any less angry.

“They’re German children.”

The tent the three amazons are given beds in that night is shared with one other woman, a young nurse who leaves soon after they arrive to cover a shift in the clinic. When Evandre curls up under her scratchy wool blanket alone, Deianeira out of reach in the next bed, all she can think about is how much she wants to be home. As she drifts off it’s with the hope that her dreams will be filled with blue skies and a clear warm ocean, wide green fields to race her horse through and a soft bed with an even softer body beside her. Instead she dreams of thunder louder than any she has ever heard at home. A thunder which shakes the ground, her teeth, her bones. And there’s smoke all around, so thick she can’t see through it and gritty dust in the air that burns her eyes and the back of her throat when she tries to breathe. Her mouth is filled with the taste of ash as she screams over and over, “Diana.” 

Deianeira is woken by Evandre’s first cry, rolling from her cot and hitting the floor hard on her knees beside Evandre. She tries to soothe Evandre back to sleep but as her love continues to whimper Deianeira instead attempts to wake her from the grip of the nightmare she is obviously having. With a few gentle shakes and saying her name she succeeds but Evandre remains unfocused and Deianeira is unable to calm the rising fear in Evandre as she desperately searches for her sister. 

Evandre clearly shouts Diana’s name now, though her voice is raw from crying and this time Diana is there. The moment Evandre is aware of being in her sister’s arms she clings to her and manages to gasp, “You didn’t come. I called for you and you didn’t come.”

Diana murmurs the sort of comforting nonsense their mother would until Evandre calms. Only when she thinks the younger woman will be able to hear her does she say, “I’m here. Deianeira’s here. You’re okay.”

Looking up Diana sees Deianeira has tears of her own now streaming down her cheeks. Keeping one arm wrapped around Evandre, cradling her head as she rocks her sister gently, Diana reaches her free hand out to Deianeira. With the rhythmic movement and Diana’s soft whispers by her ear Evandre is soon asleep again and Diana lays her back down and draws the blanket back over her. Deianeira pulls her cot up against Evandre’s then puts a protective arm over her, nestling herself up against the younger amazon. Even Diana moves her bed a little closer to the pair before she feels even remotely prepared to try falling asleep again. 

In the hazy morning light as they pack up their bags George pokes his head inside the tent to say he’ll be able to take them back to the port himself if they are ready to leave. Diana and Deianeira hustle toward the door only as they reach it realising Evandre hasn’t moved. George drops back to give the women some space as Deianeira and Diana wait for Evandre to speak.

“I want to go find them.”

Both of them are confused by Evandre’s statement but it is Deianeira who asks, “Who?”

“The wolf children.”

Diana takes a step forward. After last night and in Hippolyta’s absence she is definitely feeling like the fierce mother bear out to protect her cub. And her cub’s suggestion right now is hasty and reckless and driven by passions not reason, none of which makes it safe. “Evandre, no.”

“I have to Diana. No one else is coming for them.”


	9. Lost and Found

“It’s late. You should sleep.”

In the weak light from the lantern Deianeira had been pouring over the route they will pick up in the morning, telling herself ‘just a little longer’, since before the sun set and night gathered in around them. But Diana is right, they will be up before long with the dawn and the maps can wait until then; the maps Arthur had so generously entrusted to Deianeira to see them through Belgium that now guide the three amazons on a journey across the continent to East Prussia.

It seems the essential skills of navigating have not changed much over the centuries. The sheets of paper laid across Deianeira’s lap now aren’t so different from the hand drafted scrolls that charted what is apparently now considered the ancient world that she had once walked. Five nights ago in the Williams’ London flat Deianeira and Arthur had finished planning their route through Belgium and then explored the whole of the European continent spread across the dining room table. It had been a pleasant way to pass the evening, comparing their knowledge and both of them marvelling at how the lines drawn on a page had transformed the world and continued to bring change even now. Deianeira had not dreamed then that she would be relying on that single night to lead her Diana and Evandre across another three countries. 

Neither Diana nor Deianeira had been able to say no to Evandre’s entreaty that they find these wolf children. Saying no to Evandre had been Deianeira’s weakness from the beginning of their relationship but certainly after the overwhelming helplessness she felt knelt beside her love unable to comfort her she had fought Diana’s every objection to Evandre’s desire. Those objections were half hearted at best and had come from Diana’s concern for her sister; it had taken less than thirty minutes for Diana to give in to Evandre even knowing that in the end it would be Diana herself who would have to explain their longer absence to Hippolyta. 

Neatly folding up the maps Deianeira tucks them into a pocket of her pack before shuffling further down inside the tent to lie beside Evandre. Diana is already stretched out on the other side of her sister and reaches to turn off the lantern once Deianeira is settled. The nightmares have eased the longer they travel but they still come, tonight is the first that Evandre has fallen asleep before she is safe in Deianeira’s embrace and without a fistful of Diana’s clothing in her grasp. She barely even stirs when Deianeira drops an arm over her to pull the younger woman close.

It is a peaceful night for them all which is fortunate as they find themselves walking for most of the morning through weak hazy sunlight beside torn up roads, eager for a vehicle to pass their way which might provide a ride. Even sharing the duty of carrying the canvas tent which George had managed to acquire and each with their own relatively light packs holding only a few spare clothes and other items, rolled blankets tied to them, it would not be any of their choices to trek on foot across half of Europe. A few motor cars plough past, their tyres kicking up dry dirt and drivers doing their best to appear as though they didn’t notice the women. Eventually Diana manages to flag down a truck and they clamber into the wide cab. The man behind the wheel like most they have come across seems glad to take the three of them part way on their journey; some have done so purely out of good will, others for a small amount of money but most accept a couple of tins of food in gratitude which the amazons stock up on at any opportunity in towns and villages they pass through. 

Once they reach East Prussia and make it past the border Deianeira, Diana and Evandre head to the nearest small town in the hopes that some of the locals might tell them of the wolf children. But they are greeted by a wall of silence, no local willing to speak about them. Throughout a lengthy and unsuccessful afternoon they are brushed aside and dismissed and Deianeira in her own weariness fails to notice Evandre’s frustration building until one woman shaking her head and pushing by them causes Evandre to kick out at the hoarding of a shopfront. 

Diana seems ready to give a full blown lecture on how her little sister should be deporting herself but before she can the shopkeeper appears in the doorway and she’s distracted by having to offer an apology for Evandre’s behaviour. 

“Come with me Artist.” Deianeira leads Evandre across the street to a bench in the town square, allowing Diana to placate the blustering man enough that he retreats back to his shop and then continue seeking some answers alone for the moment.

Before leaving London Etta had taken both Deianeira and Evandre aside and given them a gentle warning on the restraints of propriety in Man’s world and that it might be for the best to keep any show of affections for each other private. So once she gets Evandre to sit on the bench, pressing down on the stubborn woman’s shoulders until she relents, Deianeira has to be content with comforting her love with a firm hand against her back and whispering against her ear as Evandre leans heavily against her. Deianeira has the momentary thought that she would let this world burn simply to take Evandre into her arms right now and kiss her until all the anger and weariness have melted away but her impulsiveness passes and she knows that need will have to wait just a little longer. 

Diana has moved along a couple of shops to a queue of women who wait at the butcher’s door. Diana’s usual charm and smile can’t help but draw the attention of the ladies and yet still her queries are met with only polite mumbled apologies that no one knows anything of these children. Deianeira notices that most of the women cast cautious glances toward a stern older lady at the front of the queue before they answer and as Diana thanks them for their time and continues past the line the women shuffle into a huddle around their severe looking leader.

All but one. A younger woman in her mid-twenties, out of place amongst the others, slips out of line to follow Diana and catches the amazon’s elbow to stop her walking off. Deianeira nudges Evandre to raise her head to watch.

The woman wrings her hands in the bottom edge of her jacket and casts a nervous glance toward the others hoping her movements haven’t been noticed. Not wanting her to face any retaliation for speaking with them Diana puts an arm across her shoulder and gently guides her to the side of the building and the narrow alleyway that would hide them from sight. When Diana stops she notes her sister and Deianeira have joined them, standing at the end of the alley like sentinels with Deianeira grasping Evandre’s hand.

After a little coaxing the local woman finally speaks, quietly so not to be overheard and in nervous rush as though she might be interrupted before she gets out all the words she needs to. “I took a little girl in, who would have been a Wolfskind if I had not. Her parents are gone but I have told her to tell everyone who asks that she is my sister’s child.” 

She informs them there are still German children left behind after most of their countrymen evacuated, living in forest. A few have crossed the border north to look for food and safety but there are some who only know this place as their home and will not or cannot leave. 

“Those women,” she spits with a nod back towards the end of the alley, “They like to gossip of wild children in the forests coming out only to steal but I have never seen such things. They only take what is left out for them. Buckets of lukewarm soup, bread and cheese wrapped in cloth.”

Diana reads in the lines of her face and the tightness of her jaw the other woman’s quiet fury; in her watery eyes is the sorrow and shame of their actions even though they are not her own. “They are only children.”

Deianeira feels the pressure of Evandre’s grip on her fingers tightening and turns to see Evandre’s eyes are a stormy blue with anger. She squeezes back briefly letting Evandre know she feels the same before letting go of her partner’s hand and moving past Diana to stand in front of the woman. 

“That is why we want to help them. Do you know where some of them might be?” 

The woman gives them all the information she has, directions out through the west of the town towards the river where she thought the children she knew of were last. After thanking her the amazons wait in the alley as she scurries back to the butcher’s line, not wanting to draw any more attention to her disappearance before they make their way across the square. 

The forest reminds Diana of the north Themyscira, towering trees stretching high above them with shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopies like spears. She knows both Evandre and Deianeira are as adept at hunting as she is, any of them could spot the swiftest of rabbits scurrying around the undergrowth and take it down with a knife or an arrow, so forty minutes into their search when they all still at the same time she knows they too have caught the flash of movement through the undergrowth and the slight breaths of children trying to keep quiet.

In German Diana calls, “Come on out, we won’t hurt you.”

A girl of maybe thirteen or fourteen drops from a tree branch in front of them. Her dirty blonde hair is tied back but knotted and obviously not recently washed or brushed. The leather of her shoes is scuffed, dried earth splattered across her shins and her clothes are covered with bits of twigs and leaves. Though the days are still quite mild here the nights have been turning colder as autumn approaches and the knee length skirt, off white blouse and tattered jacket she wears all look threadbare and not particularly warm. 

“You’re German?” The girl holds a small knife in her fist. Her clothing may be a little worse for wear but the knife is clean and sharp, well cared for. Obviously she’s aware this is the thing that could mean the difference between life and death; an essential tool to eat, make a fire or shelter and to protect herself. Right now the girl holds it with a painfully tight grip, her knuckles turning white with the effort. 

“No, we’re not German. But we are here to help you.” The girl relaxes a little at the response, whether it is the softness of Diana’s voice or simply the fact that the reassuring words are in her own language something eases her mind and she lowers her arm. She does not however put the knife away, her hand remains hovering at her thigh ready to strike if necessary. 

“They don’t like us anymore.” She lifts her chin to indicate the vague direction of the town at the amazons’ backs. “We’re not to speak German if we don’t want to be noticed.”

“We?” Diana asks.

The girl bites her lip a moment, calculating what to do next before she looks behind her and nods. The slight movement is enough of a command to bring two more girls scrabbling out of the bushes. They are quite a bit younger than their protector but of a similar age to each other, perhaps around seven and five. The oldest of the pair wears a pale dress with a thick woollen cardigan she has pulled tight around her, arms wrapped across her waist. Wild reddish-brown curls escapes from the cover of a headscarf tied over her hair. The younger girl is in clothes Diana recognise as intended for a boy, trousers hanging on her skinny hips with one leg rolled up to accommodate her short stature, unnecessary on the other leg which is torn and frayed at the edge just above her ankle. A blue shirt that is far too big for her hangs on her frame, the sleeves coming down past her fingertips. As she tugs one sleeve slightly it reveals her hand is wrapped around that of a smaller child, a boy who emerges from the foliage behind them. 

Kneeling to the height of the younger children Diana introduces herself, while casting her eyes up to the oldest to ensure her actions meet with approval. “I am Diana. This is my sister Evandre.” She points to Evandre standing behind her. “And our friend Deianeira.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation Evandre can’t help a little snort at her partner’s introduction but does manage to hold back a full laugh. She gets a disapproving look from Diana who stands back up to glare over her shoulder at her sister but the eldest child gives the young amazon a curious glance, her eyes scrunching up and head tilting a little to one side. 

Diana continues despite the interruption, “We came from a camp that helps people from both sides of the war find a home again. And we’d like to help you get to one, in Germany, where they can take care of you all.”

The oldest girl remains suspicious, the knife wavering as she adjusts her stance to both be ready to use it and positon herself in front of the other children. But the seven year old moves over to her and they start speaking in hushed voices. 

The littlest girl lets go of the boy’s hand to clutch at the other girl’s side allowing him to take a few unsteady steps toward Diana, his momentum picking up with each one until he stops just short of barrelling right into her leg. 

“Hello little man.” Tilting back his head the boy looks up at Diana through thick shaggy blonde hair that comes down over his wide pale blue eyes. He is dressed in long shorts with braces across his chest and a badly knitted jumper, the sleeves of which ride up to his elbow as he reaches up to her. His fingers flutter against Diana’s until she takes his hand. With his little arm held in the air he leans heavily into Diana’s leg and then brings the thumb of his other hand to his lips. 

The conversation has risen among the girls and they clearly hear the seven year old whine, “Please, Giesela.”

Throwing her head back with a dramatic sigh the eldest girl turns back to the three women. “We’ll come with you.” 

She takes a few steps toward them, rolling her eyes when she notices the boy has already made himself comfortable with the strangers. “My name is Giesela. This is Ilse,” she points at the curly haired girl who smiles brightly at them, her green eyes sparkling. “And Astrid.” The youngest girl gives a little wave but mostly stays standing behind Ilse, attempting to hide as much of herself as possible.

Giesela lifts her chin to indicate the little boy hanging off Diana and says with a bit of a sigh. “That’s Arno.” 

With the negotiation over Evandre lets everyone know she spotted a better area to put up their tent, a clearing a few minutes’ walk away and motions for the children to join them. Despite the smile and wave Ilse and Astrid make their way to her and Deianeira like skittish deer. As the amazons turn to lead the children away Giesela calls for them to wait and then darts toward the closest leafy bush. Crouching down she reaches in and drags out a basket of some weight, leaving a deep furrow in the dirt. The basket is woven of thick straw, a little frayed and battered but sturdy and Giesela rests it across her outstretched forearms as she stands, fingertips curling into the ridges of the weave. 

Noting how careful Giesela’s actions are Deianeira assumes the basket is not simply holding clothing or supplies. Deianeira walks towards Giesela who remains unmoving and as she draws nearer the woman can make out a little pink face peeking out from a swaddle of blankets inside. 

“May I?” Deianeira watches Giesela struggle with the decision to hand the baby over to her, knowing this is possibly the greatest demonstration of trust they have asked of the girl so far. Giesela’s fingers flex against the basket as her eyes dart toward the other children. With that quick glance she sees Diana hoisting Arno up to sit on her hip, the little boy’s eyes half lidded in sleepy pleasure already. Bouncing on her toes Ilse excitedly lets Evandre adjust the straps of what looks to be a very light pack on her shoulders and even shy little Astrid is smiling and nodding to whatever the woman is telling them. 

Giesela’s fingers uncurl and she raises her forearms a little to offer the basket over to Deianeira. “His name is Wolf. I don’t know how old he is.”

Deianeira easily hoists the basket under one arm. Gazing down she sees the baby‘s eyes are closed, lips working slightly in his sleep as though he’s having a very pleasant dream of feeding. With her free arm Deianeira reaches to gently touch Giesela’s shoulder and direct her to the others. 

In a clearing not far from the children’s hiding place but a greater distance from the eyes of the village they make camp. When they began unpacking to put up the tent Giesela offered to help Diana gather some fire wood knowing where to find the best branches which will burn the longest. They all agreed Evandre and Deianeira would watch the younger children but as Diana and Giesela walked away from the group Arno grasped for Diana’s hand and refused to let go. When Diana had tried to uncurl his fingers tears had filled his eyes and so she found herself gathering dry branches in one hand while the other keeps a tight hold on Arno’s, the boy toddling along beside her picking up sticks. 

When the three of them return to their camp, Arno proudly presenting his handful of twigs, they find Evandre chasing two giggling girls around the raised tent. Deianeira is sat just in the tent opening watching over the chaos while bouncing the baby on her lap, wincing each time their squeals hit too high a pitch. It takes a little longer than Hippolyta would stand for but soon the girls are calmed down enough to settle on a blanket with Deianeira while Evandre and Giesela build the fire. Arno gets to help, placing his sticks on the outer edge of the pyre they build, but when it comes time to light it Diana pulls him back to sit with the others. 

Their early evening is taken up with trying to cook for so many mouths and then trying to get them all to eat as both Arno and Astrid are reluctant to try the mystery contents of the can Evandre had warmed over the flames. Giesela has a little powdered milk left for the baby which they mix with warmed water and he seems the easiest to please of all the children, happy to simply be in Deianeira’s arms, but a priority in the morning will certainly be to find some fresh milk and better food. 

After eating, Evandre and Ilse take the empty plates to the stream to wash them off and fill the canteens. The girl natters incessantly about anything and everything besides her family or how she came to be in the forest. She tells Evandre of storybooks she’s read, a film she got to see in a picture house, the pony she rode at a summer fair and the snowball fights she won in the winter. As they kneel beside the trickling water Giesela joins them with their second cooking pot to fill. On the walk back to the camp Evandre notices Giesela trying hide how she is struggling with the weight of the water but is unable to persuade the girl to allow her to carry the pot instead. While in her head Evandre curses Giesela for being so pig-headed she remembers undertaking one of Antiope’s stupid training exercises at the same age and the hours she spent refusing the help of Otrera and Trigona to move a boulder twice her size from one end of the training grounds to the other. 

At camp Giesela sets the pot over the fire, at least allowing Evandre to help with that, and a short while later once Wolf has been bundled into Diana’s arms Deianeira sets to washing out the linen cloths for the baby and Arno with the steaming hot water. When everyone is sat around the fire it takes very little persuasion for the younger girls to allow Evandre to brush their hair. Twigs and leaves are teased out along with the knots but a couple of times Evandre does resort to cutting out a lock that is beyond saving with a small utility knife. Astrid’s straight dark hair is easy to braid once Evandre is done but Ilse’s curls refuse to be tamed so they have to settle for tying it back with a strip of leather. 

“We’ll find you some ribbons when we stop next.” Evandre tells Ilse when she looks a little disappointed not to have her hair done like Astrid’s and the girl’s smile quickly reappears. 

When Evandre offers to brush Giesela’s hair the eldest girl kicks at the ground in front of her and mutters, “I’m not a child.” 

She obviously doesn’t expecting Evandre’s sincere apology in response and is perhaps even a little disappointed when the amazon simply offers the brush to her, allowing Giesela to struggle with her own knots as she turns to speak with Deianeira. Sheepishly the girl hands the hairbrush back when she is done with a quiet, ‘thank you’.

The thick canopy of the trees above them, some of the greens already turning to reds and golds of autumn, brings darkness upon them sooner as it blocks the light from the sun sinking low in the sky so when they all pile into the tent it is by the light of their single lantern. As the temperate drops outside and the wind picks up and blows against the oiled canvas there are so many bodies in the confined space it stays warm and cosy. Ilse and Astrid are wrapped around each other under blankets using Evandre’s thigh as a pillow. Arno sleeps soundly in Diana’s lap curled up and sucking on his thumb as she leans against their packs and strokes his hair. When Diana is certain that little ears that might overhear their conversation are indeed asleep she asks Giesela how they all came to be together. 

Giesela is reluctant to talk at first. Pulling her knees up to her chest and biting her lip she rocks a little and shakes her head at Diana’s gentle prompting. Evandre lays a hand against her back until the girl stills and after a little more coaxing she starts to share their stories. 

“I found Ilse and Astrid together but I don’t think they are sisters. They didn’t know how to look after themselves, they were eating grass and berries.” Diana can certainly picture that of the two girls, one desperately bright and cheerful, and the other painfully shy and neither of them suited to wandering amongst the trees.

“I didn’t want to take care of them but they followed me around for days.” Giesela swallows hard after she gets the words out. She risks looking up from her knees to check the women’s faces, ashamed of herself and certain they will judge her just as harshly as she judges herself. But she is met by only understanding in their eyes. “In the end I called them over to my fire and shared a rabbit I snared. That was maybe a month ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days.”

Deianeira has Wolf on her lap, he’s awake but sleepy and has remained quiet until now when he gurgles loudly. Deianeira brushes a finger over his lips and he instantly settles to suckle contentedly with his eyes fluttering closed. 

“We found the baby by the roadside next to a woman. His mother I think. I tried to wake her but...” Giesela trails off and drops her arms to play with the hem of the blanket spread over her knees. “There’s not really enough food for people.” 

Diana can only imagine the scene she found, a starved woman lying in the mud clutching her baby to her in their last moments together. 

“We didn’t know his name and everyone in town calls us wolf children so we named him Wolf.”

She tells them how only a few days ago an old woman who had been leaving soup out on her doorstep had given them Arno. It had been a dreary wet day with grey rain and grey clouds and grey sky despite being late summer and Giesela was shivering with cold when she had crept up to the back step and made to snatch the tin bucket. Before she could the old lady opened her door and Gisela had frozen in surprise. The woman snatched the girl’s wrist and held it like a vice while she ushered the boy out onto the steps. She told Giesela only his name and that the family were all dead. 

There she pauses in her retelling and again Diana sees the wave of guilt that colours her cheeks and fills her eyes with tears before she admits she would have left him there but he clutched a loaf of bread in his arms and had a blanket draped over his shoulders.

“And you?”

Without realising Giesela had begun to lean against Evandre’s side, seeking some kind of comfort and support as she spoke. She sniffles but doesn’t cry when she tells them her own mother had been killed when the Soviet soldiers came. Refusing to look up she whispers, “after they used her.”

There’s no need for her to find any more words to explain what happened to her mother. Diana closes her eyes briefly, Evandre swallows down her anger and Deianeira presses her lips to the baby’s soft head.

“When they came to our house she told me to hide in the forest. I didn’t stop hiding until today.”

Diana softly praises her on doing so well; the fires, the hunting, taking care of the younger children. “You shouldn’t have had to do any of those things. And you were very brave to do them alone.” 

Trying to make the effort appear to be a nonchalant shrug Giesela quickly swipes at the stray tears that have hit her cheek. “My Grandfather wanted a grandson but he got me instead. He taught me to hunt and fish. We would go out into the forest for days together when I didn’t have to go to school. But then he got sick and we couldn’t go anymore.”

The tone of her voice drops at the end and they can all guess that her Grandfather did not recover from his illness.

“No other family?” Diana asks. 

“Just my father. I haven’t seen him in a long time. One day a letter came telling him he had to join the army. A year later we got another letter that said he was dead.”

Diana knows the evening has taken its toll on the girl. As they put out the little lantern that had been lighting the tent Diana hoped Giesela would continue to seek at least the physical comfort she was finding in Evandre but when her sister laid herself down Giesela rolled away from her. In the darkness Diana feels Arno curl up in a ball like a cat against her belly and hears the sound of muffled crying from Giesela.

Their journey west toward Germany is at a much slower pace than the one east. Deianeira mostly assumes responsibility for the care of the baby and in whatever quiet moments they find Evandre loses herself to watching her with him, singing ancient lullabies, stroking his feather soft hair, supporting him as he bounces on his toes even though he is a long way off being able to walk or even stand on his own. 

Little Astrid graces them with far more smiles but will still only whisper what she wants or needs to Ilse who has to share what the youngest girl says. Giesela swings between argumentative and sullen at having adults back in her life telling her what to do one moment and then almost desperately seeking their reassurance in her actions the next. And Arno simply follows Diana everywhere, usually trailing every step with his fist tight around a handful of her shirt or trousers. The boy sniffles whenever she is unable to hold his hand and on the occasions she is out of his sight he screams and cries. Thankfully Arno finds most of the days’ activities tiring and even though he tries to fight it he takes lots of naps when Diana can complete any tasks that cannot be done with a toddler attached to her. 

They all find the travel exhausting; though it is harder to find transport for three woman, four children and a baby they manage most of the way crammed into the back of motor cars or the beds of trucks and horse drawn carts. When they do have to walk Deianeira has the baby in a tight sling against her body where he squirms to ensure he can see Evandre as they speak and she wriggles her fingers in front in his face tickling his nose and making him laugh. Giesela likes to walk up front of the group, glancing back occasionally for the nod from Deianeira that she is leading them in the right direction. 

And so Evandre and Diana find themselves sharing the duty of carrying the younger children when they simply cannot walk anymore. And Arno is never happy when the responsibility to hold him falls on Evandre and not Diana. Though he eventually stops crying and grabbing toward Diana as she hoists Astrid on her back he is still not content until he’s back on her hip or holding her hand and walking beside her, his legs pumping hard to keep up with Diana’s strides even as she slows to accommodate him. 

But it is Astrid who gets drained the most. Despite being able to sleep in safety with the amazons and eat regular meals the little girl remains listless and far too pale in her complexion, dark circles under her eyes. Each evening Evandre struggles to get her to eat, sitting beside her every mealtime to watch over and encourage just one more bite before Astrid will solemnly shake her head to say she is done. 

Some progress is made as the days pass and Astrid begins to at last share her voice with the women though still barely above a whisper. Giesela too lets her guard down enough to allow Deianeira to braid her hair after that first night longingly staring at Evandre brushing her fingers through the younger girls’ hair. With Deianeira, Giesela leans back with her eyes closed and the corner of her mouth giving away a smile as the woman kneads through the long blonde strands. The plait falls down the side of Giesela’s head and over her shoulder where throughout the day she will play with the end until it inevitably loosens and Deianeira will have the girl sit between her knees again to fix it. 

Their evenings began to follow a familiar routine of setting up the tent, building a fire, eating, washing, and sleeping. On one side of the tent Diana would lie on her back with Arno sprawled flat across her belly, then Giesela and the girls in a messy bundle with Evandre on their other side and Wolf’s bassinet between her and Deianeira. None of the children would stay awake long after a day travelling but they all stubbornly fight off sleep each night to hear stories of the Amazons and Themyscira and as many tales of the Gods as Diana and Evandre can remember from their own mother’s bedtime stories, from Zeus creating the world to Diana herself defeating Ares. 

A couple of nights they are lucky to find a place that has room for the group. At one boarding house in Poland the old lady who runs it welcomes them in the moment she sees the children on her doorstep. As she shows them to a room and points out the shared bathroom in the hallway she doesn’t seem to want to ask their story, perhaps she has heard too many horrors from other guests and prefers to simply enjoy the sounds of the children as they race into the bedroom and discover the soft and very bouncy beds they will have for the night. 

An evening meal that has not come from a can is a luxury they all relish and when they have cleared their plates the landlady gives the girls and Arno a Pączek each and their faces light up. Even Giesela who protests at any opportunity she is not a child ends up with her lips covered in powdered sugar and jam on her fingers as she devours the fried doughy treat, her eyes sparkling for the first time when she smiles. Astonishingly Astrid almost finishes the whole of hers, Ilse valiantly stepping in to eat the last of it, but she and Arno end up with more of the sticky jam on their faces than in their mouths. 

The pair giggle over the water gushing out of the taps as Diana draws a bath for them, sticking their fingers under the spray and snatching them back before they are seen all while Diana pretends not to notice. In the tub their laughing and splashing reminds Diana of when Evandre was a similar age, especially when Astrid whines when she is told it is time to get out and Arno lifts his chin, face covered in bubbles to pout at her. Once clean and gathered up in towels Diana carries the two children to the bedroom allowing Ilse to wash herself, with Evandre standing in the hallway beside the door in case she needs anything. 

Giesela is already settled onto one bed when Ilse scrambles in after her and they jostle for space until Deianeira lifts Astrid in to join them. 

“Why do I have to share a bed?” Giesela grumbles as she pushes Astrid’s elbow from her face. 

“We are all having to share Giesela,” Evandre scolds as she and Deianeira shuffle to fit in their own single sized bed and Diana tucks Arno in beside her on theirs.

Reaching for the switch on the lamp Deianeira is close enough to hear Giesela mutter under her breath, “But some of us don’t mind as much as others do we.” Followed by Evandre’s muffled laughter as she buries her face in the pillow.

A couple of nights out from Germany and the camp they intend to take the children to Diana gets to the story of Evandre finding a new home in Themyscira. She hopes a tale so like their own will reassure the girls that good things will come but a shared glance with Deianeira lets Diana know she is not alone in the worry that the story may also bring about a night of dreams for Evandre. Their fears are unfounded as Evandre surrenders as easily as the children to a deep sleep. 

In the morning Diana and Evandre work to pack up the tent, rolling blankets and securing them to their packs while Deianeira paces the edge of the camp with a very disgruntled baby in her arms trying to sooth him before they move to the roadside. 

The other four children sit on the ground eating oats and water from tin bowls. Arno is happy in his own little world, immensely pleased to be allowed to feed himself, while the girls whisper together. Their little conspiracy does not go unnoticed by Diana. 

“What are you three up to?” 

Astrid digs her elbow into Giesela’s side and Diana isn’t sure if it is to prompt the older girl to speak up or to keep quiet. After grumbling and pushing the little girl away slightly Giesela tells Diana, “We want to go to Themyscira. Like Evandre did. We’ve all decided.”

“All of you?” Diana gives a pointed look toward the baby in Deianeira’s arms now sucking on a bottle that will hopefully keep him sleepy and quiet for most of the morning. 

“Well Wolf can’t decide on his own. We had to make a choice for him. What was best.” The gravity of Giesela’s words and her earnestness could match one of Hippolyta’s proclamations before the Senate. “But Astrid, Ilse and I have.” 

Ilse nods vigorously in agreement, curls bouncing and adding brightly. “And Arno won’t stop crying if you let go of his hand so he’s decided too.” At the mention of his name the boy looks up, flecks of oats stuck to his wet lips with no clue as to what’s being discussed. 

Diana looks to Evandre for help, “You started this.” 

Of course her sister offers none. Evandre just grins at her, rolling up the last blanket. Diana sighs and over the girls’ excited cheers after she agrees they can come back to Themyscira she tells Evandre, “You get to explain this to Mother.” 

It is half a day’s walk to the town where they intended to leave the children in the care of a resettlement camp and along the way the amazon’s make new plans for their return home. They will telegram Etta to see what can be arranged but it seems Diana would be leaving another boat behind in London if the best course of action is to sail from Ostend. They do have enough money with them need to telegram George of their imminent return.

After all the epic bedtime stories of ancient legends the girls now spend the days asking questions about the daily life in Themyscira; what animals there are, what the buildings are like, the people, the food. 

“It’s better than this isn’t it?” Gisela asks hopefully on their final night beside a campfire, holding her spoon on its side and letting the stew Evandre made slop back down into her bowl.

They go to sleep that night with the promise of a feast fit for princesses on their return to the island. In the early hours of the morning Wolf begins to fuss and before he wakes the other children Deianeira gets up as quietly as possible and manoeuvres her way out of the tent, stepping carefully over the tiny bodies in her path. While Diana and the children shift a little in their sleep no one rouses but Evandre, noticing Deianeira’s absence right away. Following her partner out, Evandre kisses her head and the baby’s as she passes them to rebuild the fire against the dawn chill. Once the flames lick up from the flint’s sparks Evandre settles down beside Deianeira. “You want to tell me something. You have for a while now I think. Certainly since we found the children.”

“I was waiting for the time to be right.”

“Will it ever be?” Evandre asks frankly. If Deianeira is ready she will talk to Evandre, but if not the archer will wait. One night or a hundred it doesn’t matter. 

Wolf finally stops grizzling and settles into soft snoring breaths and over them Deianeira speaks.

“When Man started to enslave us I was only two summers out of the ocean. They put us to different uses but for most of them the Amazons were prized possessions to be bought or won. The strongest women who they had broken, the most beautiful creatures they could take at their pleasure. I was kept by a wealthy family. Told the lady of the house could not bear her lord an heir and it would be my duty and… honour… to do so.”

Evandre looks at Deianeira’s hand cradling Wolf’s head, at the leather cuff around her wrist visible just below the edge of her shirt sleeve. She knows the scars that are under it and tries her hardest to push to the back of her mind the image of the manacles that put them there. 

“When it was time for the baby to come they kept me on a bed, in chains. For two days I waited and begged my sisters and the Gods for it to be over. I did not expect to love him. The midwife held him as he took his first breath and I loved him more than I had loved anything in that world.”

She looks down at the baby in her arms and for a brief moment he isn’t Wolf. Pink cheeks are darker, wisps of fine gold hair are instead black and full. But then the moment passes.

“They took him from me. I tried to reach for him as he cried for me but...” She can still feel the bite of the iron in her wrists as she had pulled against the restraints, arching from the bed desperate to break free. “She said there was a wet nurse ready for him and he would never know who I was. I was still chained to the bed on those bloody sheets when your mother’s forces raided the villa.”

Antiope had taken the main gate while two scout teams had scaled the walls of the estate. Hippolyta followed right behind her sister, her trusted General, cutting down soldiers as she went, merely household guards who stood no chance against her sword or her fury. Hippolyta watched he final man fall as Artemis dashed his head against a wall and then she and Antiope were bringing their swords down on the chains that held their sisters. 

Hippolyta took four other Amazons to begin a search of the Villa, ushering the women and children out to be kept clear of the attack’s aftermath. The men who remained alive who made no attempt to fight found themselves in the chains they were so fond of to be dealt with later. 

In one of the back rooms Hippolyta rammed her shoulder into a door to break it from its hinges to find Kheuke ready to defend herself with a broken chair leg. The other woman dropped the makeshift weapon in relief as she realised it was her liberators and not her captors who have won the battle. 

“It is good to see you my Queen.” 

Hippolyta clasps her hand around Kheuke‘s bicep, leaving a bloody print on the woman’s dark skin. “You too, sister.” 

Scanning the room for anyone else Hippolyta catches sight of a young woman on a bed. She looks back to Kheuke who nods at the unasked question. “She needs help.” 

“Outside, fetch Epione.” Hippolyta follows up her order with a shove that sends Kheuke out the door. 

Hippolyta knows the face of every one of her sisters and though the name escapes her at the moment Hippolyta remembers wrapping a blanket over this one’s shoulders and kissing the top of her head, hair still damp with salt spray, as she helped her walk across the wet sand. Now the girl’s thick locks are slicked to her forehead with sweat, her body shaking with exhaustion, blood and fluids staining the sheets beneath her and between her thighs. 

She is barely conscious when Hippolyta sends sparks flying with her sword striking the metal links holding her down. Climbing onto the bed Hippolyta gathers the young amazon into her arms, rocking her like the gentle ebb of a calm ocean, waiting for their healer and knowing the girl will need much more than Epione’s herbs and elixirs to heal. 

“What happened to the baby?” Evandre’s voice drags Deianeira back from the pull of her memories. The baby boy she cradles snuffles quietly, his breaths deep and steady in sleep. 

“They either had him well hidden or got him far away quickly. He wasn’t among those in the estate when your mother’s soldiers cleared it. It was centuries ago but I still wonder what he grew up to be. Did he have my eyes and nose? Did he know he was born from chains and cruelty, or find out who his father really was? Did he choose to be a better man?”

Deianeira shakes her head a little, breaking herself free from the questions that will never be answered. “We can make sure Wolf is a better man. We’ve seen enough here to know an anonymous German father is as good as a monster to these people. I won’t let it be all he has.”

“We won’t.” 

Finally Deianeira looks up to hold Evandre’s gaze. A tear falls from her cheek and lands on Wolf’s head but Evandre catches the ones rolling down the side of her face with the brush of a finger before they too fall. 

“Slow and together.” Evandre reassures her. 

Diana doesn’t know what happened last night but when they are all awake both Evandre and Deianeira look tired down to their bones. Their spirits seem lifted though when they find George has the strategic skills of his mother and a small boat is ready and waiting for them in Ostend. Unfortunately the man himself cannot be spared his duties to see them off. It is not their own boat but it has an engine and will get them back to Themyscira faster which is now all any of them can think about. 

On the dock they load the supplies and the boys before Diana turns to the three girls. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

Astrid nods vigorously while Ilse practically launches herself at the side of the boat and Evandre helps them both aboard. 

Giesela stands nervously shuffling from foot to foot on the wooden boards, eyeing up the boat before telling Diana it is like her grandfathers. “I watched him all the time. Only he was allowed to drive it, I was too little then.” 

“Giesela…” 

“I’m not too little anymore.”

She climbs onto the boat, stumbling slightly into Diana’s arms before giving a small sniff and steadying herself. Holding her forearms Diana dips her head down to catch Giesela’s’ eye. “No you’re not,” the amazon agrees.

The girl’s satisfied smirk rivals one of Evandre’s when Diana tells her, “I will need some help to get us home.”

“I can do that.”


End file.
